


From Blackwing, with Love

by BackattheBein



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Alternate Ending, Anxiety, Divergent ending, F/F, M/M, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Physical Abuse, Set after S1E8, Strong Language, Torture, Whump, yet another grand escape fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackattheBein/pseuds/BackattheBein
Summary: Formerly "Never Let You Go"It seemed that the universe was finally rewarding them, taking a break from the hectic mess that their lives had become, only to rip it out of their hands. Blackwing is back with a vengeance it no longer cares to hold back, not even for those innocently swept up in the wake of one Prjoect Icarus. Farah and Todd do their best to muster up an escape plan, while Amanda and Vogel attempt a rescue mission with eventual help from Bart and Ken. Dirk just tries to get through every new experiment, hoping against hope that anyone is coming for him ... although it would be nice if that someone was a certain assisfriend ...





	1. Too Good to be True

His hands had been burning, acid melting his flesh, then bight white stars exploded across his vision, then blackness.

*

Friedkin, gun bloody from the blow, stood over the body of the strange little man in the diner bathroom. _He's been in contact with Project Icarus._ _We have to bring him in, I guess._

*

He woke up with quite possibly the worst headache he’d ever had, his skull pounding in a way that felt unnatural, his eyes more sensitive to the harsh fluorescent lights than in his most appalling hangovers. The back of his head throbbed, and he could actually feel a bump starting to form there from when he’d been hit.

A small part of Todd's brain tried desperately to tell him that he had no right to compare his pain to what was happening on screen to the man who deserved none of it – after all, Dirk was the one bleeding out onto the floor – but he couldn't help himself, even if he was being overly dramatic. How else should he react to being knocked out stone cold during such a lovely afternoon, only to wake up bound to a chair in a windowless room, head pounding, his only connection to the outside world the horrors he couldn’t tear his eyes from on the screen in front of him?

Dirk was shirtless (something that might have sent Todd's heart a flutter under radically different circumstances), strapped to a table which stood upright at an angle. The straps binding him to it were thick enough to properly restrain him but small enough that the whip still covered plenty of ground, leaving angry red marks across Dirk's chest and gross open cracks in Todd's heart. Todd figured they were trying to do the Pavlov thing, hitting Dirk right after showing him images of his friends (like Todd, Farah, and Amanda) and trying to make him hate them or fear them _or something_. Todd thought he even saw a picture of the kitten shark at one point. His voice was hoarse from screaming his best friend’s name as loud as he could, not because he thought Dirk could hear him, but because he felt a part of himself break every time Dirk was hit. The only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind was the vow he’d made right then and there to beat the ever-loving shit out of whoever it was that had the audacity to hurt Dirk like this.

*

Dirk had long since let go of his bravery, his promise to keep himself from crying dying after the fifth resounding smack of leather on skin. Tears streamed down his and Todd's faces, but Dirk couldn't have known that Todd was watching, that what Todd saw made him feel deep intense pain that was emotional but felt physical (just like an attack).

In between tears and gasping for breath, he could tell his attacker was yelling at him, but it was hard for Dirk to fully latch onto the words as enduring the pain took up a lot of brain power. He managed to pry his eyes open when it felt like one of the waves had passed, only to see that he was still being shown pictures of his friends. If he wasn’t reeling from another hit, he might have felt concerned and upset that not only had Blackwing been spying on Dirk, but also on his new friends, whom he desperately wanted to keep safe from these bastards. He also might have noticed that it was that same tall dark glass of water who had tackled him in the Ridgley who was whipping him. Dirk didn’t have the strength nor the stomach to fantasize, to wonder what their lives might have been like if he wasn’t the victim of experimentation by the government, if the handsome man wasn’t the one currently sending blistering waves of pain through Dirk’s body. Besides, there was a different face, harsher but with strikingly lovely blue eyes, that he was frantically clinging to.

*

Dirk had been kidnapped, as well as Todd and Farah at the diner. Todd had no idea where she was being kept nor if she was still alive. He didn't even know for sure that he or she or both of them were being kept in the same facility as Dirk. Todd was still pretty shaken up from his first attack, having had no time to truly recover from it. Now, as he was being forced to watch Dirk be tortured, he hadn’t had an attack since he’d woken up in the too-small room with the too-big screen. Well, he wasn’t really watching this inhumane torture of his best friend by choice; it was not unlike _Clockwork Orange_ , his eyes unable to close, except Todd's eyes remained wide open by choice, absolutely horrified. No matter how much it sickened him to watch he couldn't for the life of him look away.

*

He’d been given the honor of training Project Icarus. At least, that’s what the doctor had called it when he’d brought him to this room where the project was being kept.

_It’ll be easy. Turn on the TV. When it flashes a new picture, hit the subject. Every time it has to be as soon as the picture comes up or it won’t work._

_But what if he doesn’t look at the pictures?_

_Oh, he will._ The man chuckled deeply. It was almost unsettling. _But really, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Do anything; just don’t break him._

Until about a month ago, Friedkin would never have admitted out loud that he was a violent guy. Yes, he’d trained vigorously with the CIA for a few years now, had soared through the ranks, and had finally graduated, only to be assigned to a dumb old man who cared too much to see that the projects needed to be dealt with as projects, which meant with force and without understanding or compassion. Now, he’d done it.

 _Well, we didn’t really have to with Icarus. He practically fell right into our hands._ As the pictures continued to flash on the TV, he remembered knocking out the two “friends” of Icarus; the guy had been easy, resigning himself almost like he was already being attacked. The girl, on the other hand… well, the nurse told him his jaw probably wasn’t broken and it would heal soon enough, but the bruise on his left side was a constant reminder. It pushed him to train harder.

He felt his cheeks flush as he let the anger and irritation course through him. He vaguely felt his jaw throb, either from the memory of being punched or in commiseration for what he was doing to the project as these thoughts swirled around his mind.

Friedkin briefly stopped to adjust his grip so the whip would gain just the right amount of traction, giving the project a brief reprieve. With renewed determination, he began yelling at him in between hits. “Come on, stop crying! It’s not like it’s going to help you or anything. I had your, uh, you know, your friends, locked up! They’re not here! They can’t save you! So just shut up already!”

It was pathetic. If the man had been crying before, he was practically wailing like a toddler now, despite the fact that Friedkin could see how brave he was trying to be. It was there, in his eyes, in the rare moments where he managed to pry them open and glare daggers at his attacker.

_Maybe I could get used to this._

*

Now both Dirk and Todd knew that they weren’t being kept in the same building. _But that doesn’t mean we aren’t on the same plot of land, right? We could still be in the same area, the same state, the same country?_ Todd couldn’t help it, but he felt his blood pressure rising and his hysteria growing just as the man on screen picked up his speed, giving Dirk less and less time to recover from each whip.

Dirk was too distracted, too absorbed in the pain by now to even wonder where Todd was. His only thought was one which decidedly kept him going, kept him fighting, despite the rawness of his chest and the blood loss and the pain threatening to consume him completely: _Todd and Farah are alive_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! So, when I first published this story I had no idea how people were going to respond to it. I was amazed to hear that people loved it and that it made them feel some crazy feels. :) <3 Your comments have made my day again and again. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that people would ask for more given that horrible ending (sorry not sorry), and bolstered by all your lovely feedback, I've decided to try something new. This will be my first ever multi-chapter fic! I'm so excited to be doing this, and I can't wait to hear what you think of it!


	2. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farah was just having lunch with her crazy new friends, finally at peace in her mind for once, when all of that went haywire. It's her and Todd at the mercy of the government (for now).

_I can’t believe these are my friends._  

Farah knew that Dirk had almost never shut up about establishing an agency. She even knew his interesting, albeit on-the-nose slogan: Cases solved with arguable efficiency. But she hadn’t missed the clear surprise scrawled across his face when she’d told him about wanting to invest in that idea he couldn’t stop going on about.

Suddenly, both of the boys were no longer at the table. Todd had escaped a rather awkward conversation with a bathroom break and Dirk…

Well, she also hadn’t missed the total, instantaneous change in his demeanor. One minute, he’d been happily eating ice cream and reveling in the moment of friendship and a future agency. Then, the atmosphere shifted, his features fell, and something clicked into place, leading him outside.

To be honest, Farah didn’t think much of Dirk stepping outside until he’d been gone for a solid five minutes. In fact, both Dirk and Todd had been gone for longer than was probably normal.

_Do I go check on them? Should I just let them do their business? Dirk could easily have run off somewhere, what with how distractible he is, and I doubt Todd got lost in the bathroom…_

Her gut instinct wasn’t really screaming at her, but a ball of worry was definitely not sitting well, tying her stomach in knots. Since she figured Todd was probably still in the bathroom, her priority fell on Dirk.

Leaving enough cash to pay for the meal with a nice tip, Farah got up from the booth to go outside. As she was exiting the door, a rather tall, dark stranger bumped into her. Aggressively. _Rude_ , she thought.

They momentarily made eye contact passing through the door. She stared him down fiercely, instantly and wholeheartedly not trusting him without really knowing why. He smiled back, but it was that sickly smile of someone who has a bad secret that they really are too eager not to keep.

Making it into the alley next to the diner, it didn’t take long for her anxiety to spike as she could see Dirk was nowhere to be found. It should have been easy to spot his alarming yellow jacket if he was still anywhere near the diner, but she saw nothing.

_Oh my god, Dirk is gone! Just, gone! Does he do that normally? Maybe he just felt sick from all the ice cream and went home early without us?_ Nothing about that story reassured her or eased her growing panic. Farah made her way hastily back inside the diner, only to see a situation that felt so inherently wrong she had to do something about it.

It turned out that there was, apparently, an absurdly long line at the men’s bathroom.

As Farah got closer she immediately recognized the douchebag that knocked into her when she was leaving a few minutes ago. Any grounding techniques to keep her emotions in check flew from her mind. All she felt was rage, and an overwhelming urge to protect the limp form she recognized as Todd lying in front of the stranger. The man turned to her, recognizing her as well, and began half-talking half-yelling at her. “There you are! We were just looking for—”

That thought was unceremoniously cut off by Farah executing a near-perfect punch to the jaw, just like her father had taught her. She knew he would have been proud of that one.

Before she could reminisce about her dad or even begin to worry about Todd (let alone Dirk) she was brutally grabbed from behind. An unexpected sharp pinch in her thigh stopped her in her tracks.

The last thing she remembered before she was no longer able to fight off the drugs pulling her under was the ugly smirk of _that asshole, if he hurts me or Dirk…or Todd…I swear…I’ll…I…_

*

It was absolutely the most unpleasant way to be woken up (next to watching an absolute asshat whip your best friend).

Farah was jolted into consciousness by a scream coming from the other side of one of the walls of her holding cell.

She sat up too quickly, her heartbeat racing and her mind spinning. She squinted her eyes against the harsh industrial light and fell back onto the bed. Her body felt heavy and groggy like she was moving through molasses, but thoughts were flying through her head at lightspeed.

_Oh my god what the hell happened back there?! Dirk went missing and then Todd was unconscious or something…I mean he didn’t look dead. Oh god…I only got one good punch on that asshole and now I don’t even know where the hell I am, much less where Dirk and Todd are…It’s like Patrick and Lydia all over again! How can I call myself a body guard when I’m never there, when I am so inefficient at protecting my people? We only barely managed to rescue Lydia…I’m in a room on my own I don’t know where the others are or if they’re even still alive! How is it that I keep failing to keep anyone safe, not even myself?_

Farah scrunched her eyes and balled her fists, digging her nails hard enough to leave marks.

_Breathe Farah. Remember your training. Assess the situation. Breathe. Five points of contact. Breathe. Ground yourself, dammit!_ She was practically screaming to herself in her mind, muttering along with her thoughts.

_Assess the situation._

She looked down. Street clothes, sans jacket.

_Breathe._

She tried to look around, but her vision was swimming. _An empty room?_ There was a door to her right that she knew would be locked, but she would need to check anyway. As soon as the room stopped spinning. There were no decorations on the grey walls.

_Breathe._ Farah started to feel less like she was hyperventilating and she could tell her heartbeat was at least a little closer to normal now. Blinking a few times, the room seemed to spin less. She took in a deep breath and forced her body to move into a sitting position. Her muscles ached and her vision went blurry again, but soon she sat up, bent over with her head in her hands.

_Breathe in for four counts, out for ten counts._ She pressed her eyeballs against the palms of her hands. She was vaguely aware of a muffled whimpering sound coming from her left, but Farah needed another few minutes to get a decent grip on herself.

Her heart was overworked, and that voice inside her head was already telling her she was worthless: in the wrong place at the wrong time, completely helpless like when she was chained to that bed, totally useless…

“No. I can do this. I can do this.” Farah verbalized her reassurance, speaking loud enough to hear her own words. _Let’s figure out where that sound is coming from._

She finally opened her eyes and looked to her right. That was when she noticed a small air vent near to the ground.

Suspecting that might be where the noise had come from, she slowly slipped from the bed onto the floor, her legs still shaky from the drugs, and scooted over to the vent. Farah placed her ear up to the vent to listen.

And immediately regretted it as another scream ripped across the airwaves, sending her reeling and her ears ringing.

“Ohmygod … _fuck!_ … my fault …”

A cold shiver went down Farah’s spine like she’d just been doused with a bucket of freezing water. She could swear she knew that voice…But was it real? Only one way to find out.

Farah found herself digging her nails into her palms again as she pulled together some of her remaining strength. “Todd?” she asked tentatively.

The mumbling that had been going on for those few moments stopped rather suddenly, and Farah heard what sounded like a gasp. She felt her confidence boost a little. “Todd?”

“F-Farah? Oh God…now I’m hearing voices!”

“Todd! Todd, no! It’s me, Farah, it’s really me!”

“ **Fucking stop! Just…I just…”**

“Todd, listen to me! I’m really here! What’s going on? Where are you? Where are we?”

“Just stop, please” she heard, barely above a whisper. More like a whimper, actually, wait, was Todd…crying?

“Todd, please, I need you to calm down. Breathe. We can get through this, but you have to breathe.”

Farah continued listening to Todd, repeating “Breathe” like the mantra she had repeated countless times to herself.

She couldn’t have known that he was having his second-ever holy-shit-this-is-really-happening pararibulitis attack. Still, talking him through it did actually help him calm down some. It at least seemed to slow down the blood flowing out of his body from cuts that weren’t really there.

Eventually, Todd’s breathing steadied and the tears stopped falling. Farah gave him a good five minutes to collect himself – like she had done, had needed – before she spoke softly.

“Hey Todd?”

She heard him clear his throat. “Yeah?” he croaked, his voice rough and broken.

She thought carefully about what was best to ask him right then and there. She figured he wouldn’t want to talk about what he’d just gone through, and really, they had bigger fish to fry. Farah thought, choosing her words carefully.

“What happened back there, at the diner?”

The silence that followed felt heavy with unspoken struggles, problems that she was none too eager to dive into, but needed to be faced head-on nonetheless.

“To be honest, I have no idea. I was in the bathroom, having…” Todd coughed, trying to clear his throat. He’d give anything for a glass of water right then. “I got knocked out, but I didn’t see who hit me.”

She had been drugged and pretty pissed off but the image instantly came to mind. “It was some redheaded jerk. He walked into the diner when I went to find … I stepped out because D—When I came back he was standing over you.”

Todd wasn’t sure how he knew but he suspected the same asshole who beat Dirk was the guy Farah was talking about. It sent his blood boiling to know how much pain and misery that man must have been responsible for. All this information did was sharpen his feelings of anger into a weapon he would gladly channel into pummeling this guy.

The only problem was, they had to find him first, and more importantly, they had to find Dirk. _Alive_.

“Farah, what are we gonna do?”

She sighed. To be totally honest, she was still recovering and trying to process everything that had happened. It had pretty much consumed her thoughts, but she was also maybe ignoring that oh-so important question just a little. Farah tried not to let her hesitation come through when she spoke. _I’m supposed to be the strong one. Me. Dirk – he said I’m Module B, the strike team._

“Honestly, Todd? I don’t know.”

*

_In another facility on the same complex, technicians were prepping Project Icarus. He was awoken in his meager cell and immediately drugged. Once under, he was taken into another room to perform yet another test. For this experiment, the subject would spend several hours locked inside a sensory deprivation chamber._

Dirk floated, swam, and drifted through a weary drowsy dreamland that could only have been induced from the heavy drugs they used on him so that he would be literally incapable of fighting them. He was only vaguely aware of his body being moved from room to room to room, touched by white-gloved hands that treated him like a subject, not a human.

Eventually, he woke up, slipping slowly back into consciousness, feeling groggy, and his first coherent thought was _Oh God, I’ve gone blind_.

Dirk tried to lift his hands to his face and to his complete and utter relief discovered that he in fact was not blind, because if he squinted really hard he could clearly see both of his hands in the darkness. Unfortunately, this also lead to the second, less-surprising discovery, which was that his arms were bound by thick leather straps stretching across his chest. He could lift his arms part of the way up to his face, but it turned out to be rather painful. His chest was still red, raw, and tender from when Friedkin went to town with that whip, and moving the straps that were currently on his chest sent waves of pain through Dirk. The drugs were starting to wear off, even though his mind still felt hazy, but they weren’t meant to prevent pain in the subjects.

He laid there in the darkness for what felt like hours, wondering and severely dreading what could possibly be in store for him. _Maybe they’ll just forget I’m…wherever this is…and not–_

Suddenly, a voice crackled to life around him, like an old PA system. It spoke in monotone:

“Testing, one, two, three. Testing.”

Dirk was a little confused, and his stomach clenched in anticipation.

“Begin **Project Icarus Experiment 39A**.”

For a few quiet yet tense moments, nothing happened. The air felt charged with possibilities, all of them horrible. Dirk tried to take deep, steady breaths, despite his mounting panic. He braced himself for impact.

It wasn’t ear-shattering, but it was disgustingly loud. The sounds of agonizing screams and unintelligible yelling were being pumped into the air. It was definitely a male voice crying out.

Despite the painful ringing in his ears something clicked in Dirk’s mind, and he attempted to distinguish what that voice was saying. It didn’t take long until he realized it was screaming …

He wanted to throw up. Dirk was sickened, devastated. He began frantically, desperately, uselessly screaming back into the void and thrashing against his restraints, opening some of the still-fresh wounds on his chest.

“Todd! TODD!”

_< < Directions for **Project Icarus Experiment 39A** : Place and restrain subject in sensory deprivation chamber. Wait until all drugs have worn off and subject is confirmed conscious. Using imbedded speakers, play recording of Todd Brotzman from viewing room, where Brotzman was shown video of Experiment 26B (see: H. Friedkin and leather whip). >>_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! It's my first time writing anything Farah-centric, so I'm still trying to get the style just right. If you liked what you saw feel free to let me know what went well. If you want to offer any constructive criticism it would be greatly appreciated. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter up by next week, but no guarantees <3


	3. Ohana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Dirk, Todd, and Farah were taken down in the local diner, Amanda and Vogel barely escaped the CIA's grasp by the skin of their teeth...

Blue and red smoke, in the distance. The grass moving, flowing, disturbed but not because of the wind.

The air felt heavy, pregnant with possibilities, all of them terrible.

_Why is everyone so tense?_

Amanda was ready to ask why Vogel had stopped dancing but the words caught in her throat when she looked at Martin. His face flashed a swimming mess of anger and tension, fear and rebellion, anxiety and protectiveness.

In spite of the emotions flurrying about in his head it took Marin all of two seconds to calculate what should happen, what needed to happen. He tried not to shudder at the thought of going back to that place, but he’d already weighed the options.

“Vogel,” commanded Martin, “get her outta here.”

Her blood was racing, rushing to her head, and maybe that’s why she was so easily pulled away from the others as Vogel took her hand and broke into a sprint. In her mind she was screaming, begging to stay and fight. _They’re in trouble, we can’t just leave!_

“Run! Come on!” Vogel cried out, trying to be assertive despite the mounting panic in his chest. He had to get through the fog in Amanda’s mind and get her to turn around.

She was running while constantly glancing back, trying to see what was happening as the other Rowdies slowly disappeared from her vision. It was seriously slowing them down, and it was going to get them nowhere – or worse, caught.

Finally, when Amanda realized she had to squint to see behind her and her hair was starting to stick to her face and getting in her way, she reluctantly turned her back, already trying to decide what to do while running for her life.

_Todd! He’ll know what to do!_

Before she could stop herself and think about the feud they were definitely still in the middle of, she had grabbed her phone and dialed Todd, brushing over her confusing feelings towards him in favor of getting his help. They were _being chased by the CIA for crying out loud …_

“Amanda?”

“Todd! Todd they’re coming, came for us, running, left the others, help!” She was shouting, panting, crying out into the phone, willing her brother to understand what the fuck was happening, not even registering what she was saying or what he was saying back.

“Amanda! Shit, what happened? Stay where you are, I’ll come – Ah!”

“Todd? Todd please please listen to me! Todd?”

She was cut off by cries, whimpering, and a hair-raising scream.

“Todd! Todd what the fuck is happening? Todd!”

The screaming was cut off abruptly with a loud _thwump_.

The line went static, nothing was happening, but then she heard another voice that nearly stopped her in her tracks.

“We’ve got Black and Brotzman. Let’s go.”

Even though she’d only met him once when he’d threatened her and the Rowdies, Amanda knew the voice was coming from that redhead asshole with the CIA. _Oh my God,_ ” she thought, feeling her heart beating harder than before and her panic levels rising, _“we’re being chased by the government and now they have Todd and Farah what the –_

Suddenly the ground disappeared beneath her feet and she was falling. Her phone flew out of her hand as she face-planted in the dirt.

“Woah!” A twin cry of surprise and panic came from somewhere next to her.

Bright green grass. Throbbing pain in the knees. Scrapped hands.

Her mind flooded with senses, with fear, shock, anger; with red, with pain, but, wait, no, yeah _it’s real, it’s real … not an attack … calm the fuck down!_

_Breathe_ , Amanda thought, forcing her mouth to open and her lungs to work, to suck in air down her sore, burned throat. She coughed and cringed a little as she rolled onto her side.

Amanda saw through blurry eyes that she was just on the edge of the forest surrounding the field, and across yet another small open field was a long and empty road.

Well, empty except for one car left on the side of the road, abandoned, with no one at the wheel and not a single person in sight.

“Vogel!” Her voice was hoarse but she forced it out. As she pushed herself onto her hands and knees ( _ouch, everything hurts_ … _but … good, nothing seems broken_ ), she saw she was on a hill, that the ground below her slanted down towards the road. Amanda glanced towards her right, searching for Vogel and getting more nervous when she didn’t spot him right away.

His jacket blended in a little too well with the dirt. She could see he was lying facedown not far from her, but he _… was he crying? Whimpering?_ He seemed to be shaking a little too …

“Hey, Vogel?”

“Hnnnnnnnnnggg,” he whined.

“Come on, get up.” Standing on wobbly legs, Amanda carefully wandered over to where Vogel had collapsed onto the ground.

That was when she saw it: a gigantic tree limb with its many little branches sprawling on the ground, sitting on top of the hill. It was surprising she hadn’t seen it as they’d approached it, but she had been on the phone, too many thoughts and emotions swirling about in her system.

_Vogel must have just barreled over it,_ she figured. _I hit it too, but I’m, well, mostly okay …_

“We have to keep going,” she said when she finally reached him, shaking his shoulders. She then helped roll him onto his back and up into a sitting position.

_Yikes_ , she thought as she held him by his upper arms, _he’s covered in more dirt than usual, and he doesn’t look too happy either …_

“Come on, here, Vogel,” she spoke gently, backing up to give him space and holding out her hand to help him up.

He flashed a face at her, one of hesitance, before quickly plastering on a version of his normal manic smile that just screamed fake. He took her hand and seemed to grimace.

Vogel grit his teeth as he pulled his knees to his chest.

Or, he at least gave it a hero’s try, before the pain sent him reeling and falling onto his back again, eyes scrunched tight to keep any traitorous tears from falling.

“Vogel! Oh my God are you okay? Are you hurt?”

That was when she noticed his ripped jeans were ripped a little more than usual.

“Shit, you’re bleeding! Oh God, that’s a lot, okay, wait, take off your jacket!”

Amanda reached behind Vogel, yanking his jacket off him and pressing it onto the large cut on his left leg, trying to stop the blood.

“Ahhhhh! ‘Manda, it hurts!”

“Vogel, it’s okay, just breathe, it’s –”

“Owww, please, it – agghh!”

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay, it’s okay, it … breath, okay, just – ”

_BOOM!_

Their bodies froze.

Their minds slammed back into reality.

_Oh yeah, we’re being chased. We have to get out of here asap._

“Can you, V-Vogel, can you get up? I’m sorry, I, you have to, I can’t carry you … ”

Tears streaming down his face, Vogel managed to stand up, with major help from Amanda. He immediately jammed his fist into his mouth to stop himself from crying out.

As quickly as they could, they made a mad dash for the seemingly abandoned car on the side of the road. It was their only chance at escaping.

Amanda was a full atheist, but she was praying to every deity she could think of as they approached the car. _Please please please let me drive the car away from here, we are on the run, we need medicine and food and our family has been taken from us and … my asshole brother oh God and this girl I might like just a little or maybe a lot and I swear to whoever’s listening if we make it out alive I’ll tell her and maybe I’ll even forgive my lying brother one day …_

She didn’t really have time to stop and think why a fully functioning car had just been left on the road for the taking, keys in the ignition, but lord was she thankful for it. Amanda pried the passenger door open, thrust Vogel in, slammed it shut, and sprinted over to the driver side.

One thought briefly flew through her mind before she really had time to catch on to it: Dirk would have said it was the whim of the universe, it was all connected, meant to be …

*

“Fuck! Vogel!”

Amanda, knuckles white from the sudden death grip on her seat, glared at Vogel, who’d practically jumped across her and grabbed the wheel with no warning whatsoever.

“You were gonna miss the turn!” She could see the panicked look in his eyes as the pitch of his voice climbed higher.

“When the fuck did you tell me to turn?!” she snapped, instantly regretting her harsh tone.

“It was right there!” he stammered out. “You just – you needed to – I … ”

Vogel had let go of the wheel, struggling to make sense out of the storm of words and thoughts and feelings flurrying through his mind. He stammered out a few words she couldn’t make out before resigning himself to silence. He sat back in his seat, face torn between scrunched up anger and exhausted defeat.

Amanda could tell he was hurt, both emotionally and physically (although she tried to ignore that since they couldn’t do anything about it at the moment). _Alright, time to backpedal,_ she thought, deflated _._

“Hey, look,” aiming for a reassuring tone, “I’m sorry, ok? Just let me know in advance next time.”

Vogel let out a sigh that was only a little passive aggressive. He grabbed his jacket which had fallen onto the floor and reluctantly pressed it back onto his leg wound.

“You know,” she said, smiling mischievously, “I can make a pretty wicked u-turn.”

Vogel caught on quick, grinning fiercely now, whatever small flicker of anger against Amanda easily diminished. He knew he couldn’t stay mad at her long, not just because they were stuck together now. They were family, and they had a family to save.

Plus, their drummer girl always knew how to make him smile.

At the moment, Vogel didn’t feel too emotionally stable, too grounded, because he had left his family – _no, they were taken_ , he thought, his anger resurfacing – _but I still have her, and we’re gonna get the others back_.

Amanda settled back down, eyes turning to the road again.

Her mind was roiling too, a confusing mess of fear, longing, and loss, and excitement and joy and very addicting adrenaline keeping her going. In a matter of days, she’d gone from living completely on her own, alone in her own home, in her own mind, to living the most impossible life she could never have imagined.

This gang of outwardly intimidating _actual cinnamon roll psychic anarchist vampires_ had taken her in, vowed to help her through her illness, and treated her like family. It was completely different from how her blood family had treated her, coddling her and always walking on eggshells around her. She didn’t have to live like that, she didn’t want to anymore.

Amanda still wasn’t sure how she felt about Todd, nor if she’d ever forgive him. _Just because he’s blood doesn’t mean I have to like him_ , she thought, gripping the steering wheel harder, knuckles turning white. _I chose to run off with the Rowdies._

Despite that, or rather adding to her confusion, Amanda had a nagging suspicion that her brother wasn’t doing too hot right then. The way he’d acted on the phone, suddenly starting to scream, _like he was being attacked, then hearing that disturbing laughter … God that voice …_

“This is Friedkin, reporting to Wilson. I’ve got subjects ID’ed as Black and Brotzman under control. Bringing them in with Icarus. Over.”

Amanda had felt her blood run cold, remembering how that ginger asshole had almost choked her and threatened the Rowdies.

_It’s just me_ _and Vogel against the freaking government trying to rescue the other Rowdies not to mention Farah and Dirk and her asshole brother goddammit_. _We’re two idiots driving to God knows where based on Vogel’s vaguely defined power to smell the others hoping that with every last-minute twist or turn they’d just happen upon where everyone was being kept. Not to mention how the fuck they were going to get everyone out. Vogel is already hurt, I don’t know how easily he’ll be able to walk around the facility and I can’t go in there alone! What if someone else is hurt too? Or they’ve been tortured and starved and hurt and abused and…_

_Was it meant to be for her boys to get captured? For Dirk and Todd and Farah to be taken too? For Vogel’s leg to get busted? If that’s all true, then this is one fucked up universe._

Amanda didn’t know her vision was swimming until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She glanced over at Vogel as her eyes came back into focus.

_Okay, Amanda. Calm down. Breathe a little._

_Drive now. Think later._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Hope you like the new fic title as well as the new chapter. I'm sorry if it seems like it took a while to get this out, but I'm doing my best and really enjoying writing this. Feel free to leave kudos and let me know what you think! <3 <3


	4. Worst Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farah has a rough night, followed by a not-so-pleasant afternoon with Friedkin... (Warning: If you're uncomfortable with Farah suffering physical abuse, please skip this chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who's read this story and stuck with it this long. This year I started a journey -- writing fanfiction -- and it's been really fun and a wonderful experience. Secondly, I feel the need to apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I promise this story will be wrapped up before season 2, even though I could really go on forever. I anticipate that there will be about three more chapters (two of which are mostly drafted already) and I aim to post one per week. I also won't be taking into account any fun spoilers from SDCC 2017 or other press/interviews.
> 
> So yeah! Thanks again, kudos and comments and your support truly make my day <3 Enjoy (or suffer :P )

She was back at the diner, laughing and having a good time. Laughing! God, Farah couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard.

Then suddenly, Todd was gone. It was like he’d disappeared, vanished into thin air, there one moment and gone the next.

Then Dirk disappeared. _They didn’t walk away, like in the real diner, they were, just, suddenly, eerily, unexplainably gone._

Farah felt a wave of déjà vu pass over her as she stood up to check things out, choosing first to look outside, just like she’d done before.

Except, as she stepped outside, her foot connected with wood, not pavement. She was walking down the stairs of the Spring Mansion, the diner nowhere to be seen.

She had a nagging feeling that something was wrong, that she was meant to be somewhere else, to be with someone else. Farah picked up the pace, trying to quickly get to the basement. To the Animal Transfer Unit? To the ... the ...

She blinked, disoriented from all of the scene changes, colors flashing by her like a light show. Her gut feeling – _a hunch_ – was still telling her that trouble was coming, but she just couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was.

Without warning everything flashed blindingly white, then ominously red. When her eyes adjusted she saw she was back in the Ridgley, but not in Todd’s apartment, no – not even in her wildest dreams could she be so lucky.

Farah found herself back in _that_ room, chained to the bed, duct tape over her mouth, sweating bullets, with those creepy dead-eyed cultists menacingly standing over her.

But she was looking at herself lying on the bed? Suddenly Farah could see that she was still on the bed, but she was seeing things from the cultist’s perspective. It was disorienting to say the least, to see how weak and helpless she could be, how easy it had been for the men to overpower her.

 _I’m supposed to be the strong bodyguard_ , Farah thought. _If only I had kept Lydia safe, she never would’ve got turned into a dog, we’d never have gone on those crazy missions, those cops wouldn’t have died, I bet I could have even saved Patrick and not left Lydia totally orphaned …_

The only thing that could have interrupted the thoughts that flashed through her mind in a few seconds was the sheer terror of realizing that it was no longer herself on the bed, but Lydia, beaten and bloodied. Farah actually felt sick, like she’d been punched and kicked in the gut.

Farah tried to scream but opening her mouth felt like a gargantuan task, like she was moving through molasses. It was like everything was moving in slow motion at an excruciatingly low speed. After what felt like an eternity she managed to force her mouth open enough to scream, but nothing came out. She wanted to scream until her throat was hoarse because that was Lydia, _her Lydia_ , who deserved none of the crap she’d been through in her short, young life.

Farah made to run to the bed, except her legs wouldn't move. They were cemented to the ground, they were fighting a current that would have forced her to the ground if not for her conviction and sheer determination. Tears streamed down her face, her desperation growing stronger by the minute. She felt like she stood there for hours, staring down at a helpless and broken Lydia, before something, anything happened.

The bed began moving away from Farah, like she was looking at a picture that was now zooming out. _Lydia! LYDIA!_ , her voice finally there, yelling as loud as she could.

She blinked.

She wasn’t in the Ridgely anymore, in fact, she wasn’t really sure where she was … it didn’t really matter, anyway. Farah only had eyes for the atrocity in front of her.

Amanda’s hands were bound behind her back, although it didn’t seem like she was actively resisting, it seemed like she had been knocked out. A rather large cut on her forehead was openly bleeding, gushing blood as she was being dragged away by generic men in white labs coats.

If Farah’s heart had stopped when it was Lydia who was hurt and in chains, now her heart shattered and the shards pierced her chest, leaving her open and bloodied.

The men carting Amanda away were faceless, genderless blobs in her tear-streaked vision, but Farah was going to tear the world apart to find the bastards and –

**BANG!**

Farah sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and panting, sweat rolling down her neck.

**BANG!**

_Amanda’s been shot, oh my god ohmygod what do I … !_

**BANG!**

Farah looked around, confused, heart pounding frantically in her chest.

_It was just a dream I’m still in that room and I’m alone and Todd is in the room next to me and Amanda’s not here …_

A clicking sound was coming from the other side of the wall adjacent to her. Then, a heavy, thick metal door was pushed open, creaking with age as it was pushed by two armed guards.

Still a bit disoriented from her dream, Farah stood up, fully intent on taking down whoever was at the door. She didn’t get very far, though, because they moved quicker than she could follow in her sleep-muddled state and soon one of them had her restrained. They held her arms behind her back as yet another needle was forced past her jeans pumping who-knows-what into her blood.

Through her last dredges of consciousness, she saw that same tall ginger man with the venomous smile leaning over her, speaking to the guards:

“Good job boys! She’s a tough one, so don’t let her fight, okay? Hey, d’you think we should blindfold her? I definitely want her in cuffs while we have our – uh – our little chat.”

Farah was gone before he could finish the thought.

*

She awoke even slower than the last time she’d been drugged, which, granted, was only a few days ago.

As Farah’s mind clawed its way back to the world, she noticed a few things about her new room. It was just as dull and grey as the other. There was no bed, but there was a table, which ( _oh, well that’s just great_ , Farah thought) she was handcuffed to.

She was sitting in one of two chairs. The other was currently empty.

Too late the idea occurred to her that someone was probably waiting for her to come to and she should try to fake being asleep for as long as possible.

“Hey there, Miss Black! You awake yet?”

She looked up to the sound of a door creaking open and someone yelling at her, making her head throb as he walked in.

 _It’s him._ She was pretty sure that sickening smirk would start to haunt her dreams if she didn’t take this guy down before too long.

He chuckled when she didn’t respond, sitting stone-faced across from him (she was pretty proud of her poker face – well, most of the time – well, sometimes).

“Of course you are. Can I call you Ms. Black? I’m Hugo Fri--, er, Lieutenant Friedkin, by the way.”

Farah had known this man for all of a few days, but the intensity of her distaste towards him shocked her. Her instincts were practically screaming at her to take him out. She felt adrenaline pumping through her system, her heart still beating erratically.

_Okay calm down, breathe, everything’s fine for now, breathe …_

“It’s okay, you don’t have to introduce yourself. I already know all about you.”

Friedkin pulled the chair out from the table, the metal scrapping harshly against the floor, echoing in the tense silence of the interrogation room. He tried to look relaxed, putting on his best confident face.

Farah squinted at the grating noise. She didn’t really know what this guy wanted, but she wasn’t going to budge if she could help it.

“You tried to be in the military. You didn’t get in, but I did, and the CIA just gave me $80 million, so I guess only one of us was really qualified.”

Farah was surprised by how flippant this guy was. _Who does this idiot think he is?_

“So, what do I do with the money? I get to run this whole thing, here, this project Blackwing that used to be so cool, except now it’s lame,” said Friedkin, sounding exasperated.

Farah tried not to snort. She had never really heard Dirk mention Blackwing, but she figured it probably wasn’t the cleanest of operations, lame or not.

“I mean, I guess the cool thing is I can do whatever I want, and all I have to do is send some emails, and it, like, it all gets covered up! Like, I shot that police guy, what was his name? Esteban? Eduardo?”

Farah felt her blood run cold. _Detective_ _Estevez? He’s dead? That can’t be!_

“And then there was that mansion, we burned that place to the ground.”

Farah forced her face to stay still even as his words sunk in, her mind going into overdrive. She felt her heart deflate, devastated. _Why would they burn the mansion? What kind of sick –_

“And that apartment building too, the Ridgely, I think?”

This time Farah couldn’t help but lift her eyebrows out of surprise and shock. As much as she thought he might just be saying these things to get on her nerves, she had a nagging feeling that he was telling the truth. _It’s gone. They’re both gone. Is Lydia safe? Is Amanda? Where –_

Friedkin cleared his throat. It caught Farah’s attention and brought her back – if momentarily – from spiraling over the edge.

“So, anyway, I do have a point. I brought you here to ask you some questions.”

 _Oh, great, I thought we were just here to stare deeply into each other’s eyes,_ she thought. _No way he's getting anything out of me._

“Alright, so, at first, when I was first assigned to work with Project Blackwing, my, uh, my former colleague was only tracking Project Icarus. He wasn’t tracking any other projects besides Incubus,” at the thought of them he inwardly shuddered a bit. “He didn’t know who the projects were associating with, so when I was put in charge, I thought it would be good to know, ya know?”

Farah had an idea where this conversation was going, and a knot was slowly tightening around her stomach.

Friedkin stood up, sending the metal chair screeching across the floor again. He moved to stand over her and continued pressing her.

“The point is, I know who you are. And I’ve read about the siblings that’ve been running around too. We have the brother locked up in the room next to you.”

 _So I’m not going crazy!_ Farah realized she could maybe get more information about everyone’s whereabouts, if she played her cards right.

Farah cleared her throat, surprised to find it scratchy and sore and dehydrated.

“Where’s Dirk?” she asked, trying to sound assertive despite her voice cracking.

Friedkin smirked again, that sickening smile that turned Farah’s stomach even more.

“Oh, come on, you know I can’t tell you that! How stupid do you think I am?”

Farah tried not to gag. She was pretty sure if she'd been drinking water she would've done a spit take just then.

“Anyway, we locked everyone up. Well, … almost everyone.”

Friedkin stood now and came over to half-sit and half-lean on the table in front of Farah. She was hit with a smell that turned her stomach, a weird mix of aftershave and … cinnamon gum?

“Where is the sister? Amanda? She and one of Project Incubus somehow managed to escape. I mean,” Friedkin said, gesturing wildly, “we just barely brought in the other three, we lost a ton of men. They’re … replaceable, but I think the three would cooperate more if the other two were also there. Right now,” he said, massaging his temples, “they’re just screaming at each other and at me and all the scientists, we’ve got ‘em in straightjackets and we have to keep them gassed all the time. It’s expensive!”

Farah would have rolled her eyes so hard they would’ve fallen out of her head, except she was doing her best to keep a straight face, not wanting to give anything away. She felt like she could fist pump the air. _Thank goodness, Amanda’s alive! She escaped! And she’s with one of the Rowdies? I guess she’s probably safe with him…_

“Hello? Ms. Black?”

Farah returned her attention to the ginger nightmare in front of her. He, well, he actually wasn’t that ugly, now that she thought about it, but at the moment, her cheeks were burning and her heart was beating erratically at the thought of a certain dark-haired drummer girl.

She returned to staring at Friedkin, who – _holy shit!_ Farah almost jumped a mile out of her skin. She barely managed to keep herself from flailing her arms in self-defense.

Friedkin, who was previously sitting awkwardly on the table, was now standing so close to Farah that she could feel his sticky, hot breath washing over her face.

She also couldn’t move because of the chains, which only just came onto her radar. If she wasn’t two inches away from this idiot staring directly into his stupid eyes, she could have looked beneath her chair to find even more chains. Her hands were cuffed to the table, and her legs were cuffed to the chair, and the chair was cuffed to the floor. _Jesus, she thought, why so extra?_

“Did you hear me?” Friedkin asked, genuinely confused. _Why isn’t she answering me?_

He was met yet again with stony silence. He felt her short breaths ghost his chin.

“Come on, just tell me where she is. That’s all I want to know, then you can go back to your cell.”

The silence was becoming deafening, neither party relenting.

“You know, I could just make you answer me. I am in charge here, after all.” Friedkin was starting to get agitated. He desperately tried to keep up his confident façade as she continued sitting there, staring silently back at him, her resolve solid.

“Ok, maybe I’ll just have them go get Icarus, Dirk Gently, and – and bring him in here! I can have him hurt! I made Brotzman watch me beat him, I can do it again!”

Farah could tell he was getting worked up, and that her chances of getting any info from him were pretty low now. Aiming to diffuse the tension building around them, she started calmly, “Okay, so I don’t actually – ”

**SMACK!**

She was promptly cut off by a stinging pain in her cheek. Farah was shocked.

“Oh shit, God, I’m, oh man, hey I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve done that. Look, I just want answers, ok?! All you had to do was answer me!” Now Friedkin was – well, not really panicking, but he knew he’d fucked up, he could feel his blood pressure rising.

As he started backing away from where she was chained to a chair, Farah simply sat, stunned that Friedkin even had the nerve to hit her. She could still feel a throbbing on the side of her face. _That’s gonna leave one hell of a bruise_ , she lamented.

Farah’s heart was practically beating out of her chest. _What do I do? Dirk and Todd, well, and me too, we’re all in trouble, Amanda’s still out there, this trigger-happy idiot is in way over his head … Breathe, Farah. What can I do? Can I convince ginger to … uh, to help me? I just …_

“Hey, c’mon in. I’m done with her, she’s not being very helpful. Just take her back to her room.”

Farah turned her head to the door, her attention back on Friedkin as he let two massively built guards enter and march in her direction. One of them began to unchain her legs from the chair. The other …

 _Oh for fuck’s sake!_ Farah thought as she squirmed and fidgeted trying to get out of the way of the second guard who was trying to stab her with yet another needle, this time in her neck. She felt a fresh rush of adrenaline flood her system.

“Oh come on!,” said Friedkin, exasperated, “Don’t struggle, that just makes it – ”

Farah turned herself around in her chair and kicked the legs out from under the guard with the needle, and then she kicked him again on his head, effectively knocking him out. Her hands were still cuffed together but she could stand now, free from the table and chair.

She didn’t have much of a plan except to get out (of this room and these damn handcuffs), to find everybody, and to escape. The only things standing in her way were the other guard and Friedkin.

“Stop, Ms. Black, alright?” Friedkin said, reaching out with his left hand to grab her by the shoulder. _This is getting out of hand_ , he thought, _don’t let her escape. Don’t let her fight._

Farah turned away from his hand to roundhouse kick the other guard that was hovering behind her. It wasn’t quite a perfect hit, but she was under a lot of stress and also had limited use of her hands. It was still enough to send him flying across the small room where he fell on top of the other unconscious guard. _Okay, now take care of Mr. Nice-Gu –_

_KLUNK!_

Suddenly, Farah wasn’t looking at the guards anymore. She was seeing stars, bright blinding white light, streaking her vision as she collapsed and her head exploded in pain.

Friedkin stood over the body of Farah Black, gun bloodied for the second time this week. “Look, I told you not to struggle.”


	5. Team Work Makes the Dream Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (It's not for kurlish week but...) While our two other lovable family units were being forcibly taken in to Blackwing against their will, a small few managed to break away, only to find each other again. What happens when our holistic dirt muppet and her dearest friend (and a stray dog) run into two-fifths of the Rowdy Three?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! So I just wanted to say, sorry I've been shit at updating this story; school started last month, forcing me to put some things on the back burner, but I have not forgotten my love for this fic. It now has surpassed 600 hits, which honest to God still blows me away every day. Thank you for sticking with this story till the bloody end. I only have a few chapters left and I really truly hope to upload them all in quick succession within the next week, but I will keep you updated if my plans change. I want this to be done so that I can properly obsess over season two, which looks like it's going to be a phenomenal, wacky journey that I can't wait to embark on!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Thanks for reading as always <3 feel free to leave kudos and comments, or even thoughts and ideas about season two, since my prediction turned out to be laughably wrong xD
> 
> Content warnings again for blood and canon-typical violence

_All she had was a rock._

Ken had honestly thought that nothing Bart did anymore was surprising. He’d accepted her interconnectedness-of-the-universe thing wholeheartedly now, and yet …

_There were like, forty dudes! And a tank for crying out loud! An actual, honest-to-God tank!_

It had only been minutes since they’d been cornered, cut off, and completely surrounded by more than three dozen people in uniform. But to Ken, it had felt like hours, the violence dragging out bit by gory bit. Watching as it evolved had been mesmerizing, as much as it had turned his stomach. His attention had been drawn to Bart, the universe using her like a fine-tuned instrument.

Wiping her hands on her already soaked bellhop outfit, Bart made her way back to the car.

She would never it admit to Ken, but sometimes she enjoyed killing people; she may not be good at people things like socializing, but she knew him enough to suspect that a revelation like that would probably bother him.

Rapunzel barked from the passenger seat as Bart approached, startling Ken, who’d forgotten about the poor thing in the haze of murder-y things and such.

Bart smiled at Ken and the dog, the last dregs of adrenaline still rushing through her. The strings connecting her and the universe, that unexplainable tug in a certain direction, were all coming back into focus now that that little roadblock had been taken care of.

To Ken, her smile and confident gait were actually kind of unsettling. It hinted at Bart’s piranha-in-the-stream-of-creation attitude, especially since it was framed by countless bodies and an abandoned tank. _God, she really is an angel of death._

Bart, however, was trying to smile like she thought a normal person would. _How do normal people smile? Does it really matter? Eh, probably not._

She opened the passenger side door and Rapunzel immediately jumped into her arms, barking and licking stray bits of blood and dirt off her face.

Bart caught her and wrapped her in strong and bloodied arms.  She sat, careful not to hurt _my_ _precious baby yes you are_ , she thought, and then she shut the door.

This was followed by a rather uncomfortable silence.

Bart sat contentedly, simply waiting for the universe to lead her on her next path.

Rapunzel happily wagged her tiny stump of a tail and panted as she was cuddled by Bart.

Ken …

Well, Ken felt like his mind was still racing at roughly one hundred miles per hour. He was desperately trying to reconcile a lot of disparate emotions all at once: the shock and fear of being surrounded by goons (and an effing tank) from the government who’d been armed to the teeth; the immense relief of the three of them surviving; and the disbelief in the absurdity of one woman taking on an army with only a rock, despite the fact he had recently accepted her to be some sort of delete key of the universe.

“Bart?”

“Huh?” she grunted, looking out the window, admiring her work while petting Rapunzel.

“What just happened?”

The juxtaposition of the quiet peaceful countryside and the plethora of bodies strewn about set a brief wave of nausea spiraling through Ken. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly through his nose, counting in his head _one, two three, four_.

“They were bad guys. I took care of it.”

_Bad guys. That’s reassuring. She only kills people who’re supposed to die, right? They were bad guys. Bad guys …_ Ken was trying to keep himself from spiraling out of control. _God, that sounds like something an insane person would say. Bart’s not insane, though, I mean …_

He forced himself to exhale through his mouth and felt a goodly amount of tension release from his shoulders (which were severely hunched up) and hands (which had been holding the wheel in a death grip, turning his knuckles white).

Something slick and wet swiped across his cheek. He turned his head and got a face full of adorable corgi. It looked like she was smiling at Ken. _Is this, like, the universe telling me that I’m where I’m supposed to be_ , he thought. _With Bart? That I should trust Bart?_

Looking at her, bloodied and smiling from ear to ear with a lap full of a happy puppy, he felt his resolve solidify once again. Or rather, his panic subsided and his rational thoughts returned. _She may be a homicidal dirt muppet, but the universe has a plan for her, and for me, and this crazy holistic approach to life is real. I know because I’ve_ seen _it._

“Okay, so, where to next?” He asked.

Bart took a quick pass over the area, sort of unaware of the bodies, looking as if the universe would soon conjure up a friendly billboard in the midst of the massacre.

“There. Take that road.” She pointed to a side road off to the right of the tank. As with everything, a vague tug in that general direction was all she got from the universe, but she had been following its whims long enough to know that that was the signal.

“Okay,” he said, breathing deeply, then turning his head to smile at her and the dog. “Let’s go!”

Rapunzel barked with excitement, wagging her tail so hard she was actually wagging the whole of her soft little butt, as Ken carefully maneuvered the car around the bodies and abandoned police vehicles to reach the road.

*

_God, I sound like a feral animal._

Amanda’s growling stomach was getting more persistent and pretty hard to ignore at this point. 

She had no idea how long they’d been driving for, her only indications of time passing the setting sun and Vogel, who’d finally stopped bleeding, _thank God_ , she’d thought with relief.

Unfortunately, that meant he was also crazy drained from their daring escape earlier, his energy levels visibly depleting. At the beginning of the trip, when they’d both been running on adrenaline, he’d yelled and gestured emphatically whenever they needed to change their course, still using that ambiguous power to sense the others.

Now, hours later, she had to keep punching him in the shoulder every few minutes to make sure he stayed awake. She needed to know he was alive, but she also needed directions, and he was the navigator, which meant he would point his finger in a haphazard new direction a split second before she needed to make a turn. Vogel’s infectious energy was all but gone at this point.

Just as she was getting ready to punch him again, her own eyes started drooping closed, heavy with sleep she had no idea she needed. _Fuck, when was the last time we all slept?_

She was really struggling to recall the last time they’d all gotten a full night’s rest, especially since she’d been too excited ever since she joined the Rowdies to properly sleep. Another growl in her stomach was accompanied by weird pangs, as if her stomach was contorting, finding no food, and then punishing her for not eating.

_Maybe we both need a break and something to eat, that might help him get his power back up to normal._

Amanda checked her rear-view mirror four more times before she finally nudged Vogel again, asking that all important question. “You hungry?”

She didn’t think she’d ever seen him perk up so quickly.

Vogel eagerly nodded his head.

_Well, it doesn’t look like anyone’s been following us_ , she reasoned, _since I haven’t seen, like, any cars for as long as we’ve been on the road. So it’s gotta be okay to stop, just for a minute, right?_

“Alright, Vogel. I’m pulling over the next place we see. We’ll run in, take the quickest pee of our lives, grab any and all food ‘n’ stuff we can find, then haul ass outta there. Got it?

Vogel nodded again, glancing over at Amanda, vitality and light returning to his wild eyes.

Amanda gripped the steering wheel, feeling some hope not exactly swelling in her chest but rather seeping into her tired bones and setting up camp ther.

She rolled her eyes as her stomach growled again. _We better find someplace soon, dammit._

*

_Finally!_

“Manda! Manda!”

“Yeah, Vogel, I see it!”

_Our fucking oasis in the middle of the desert_ , Amanda thought as she took the turn a little too quickly and only narrowly avoided a fat metal electric pole.

Their metaphorical oasis was a decrepit old dollar store that looked like it had been abandoned despite the fact that the parking lot was filled with cars.

Amanda ripped the keys from the ignition, practically leapt out of the car, and was halfway across the parking lot before she realized her shadow wasn’t with her. She turned around to see Vogel visibly grimacing as he tried to get up and out. The poor excuse of a tourniquet they’d made looked sticky and gross and was getting wet again with fresh blood.

Reluctantly turning away from the store, Amanda jogged back to the car.

_Well, shit_ , she thought. _Vogel probably can’t walk because of that cut …_

She approached the passenger side door, which stood ajar with Vogel half-falling out of it. He turned to look at her. Desperation shown in his eyes and hair was plastered to his sweaty face as he strained to stand. “Amanda,” he said, trying to mask his grimace as some minor pain washed over him. “‘Manda, please, I need to get out.”

Thinking on her feet, Amanda approached Vogel, determined, but she moved straight past him to manhandle her way into the car’s glove compartment. The only things they had were the clothes on their backs, so she knew they didn’t have any medical supplies. However, there was a small chance that whoever owned the car they had stolen might have kept shit like that in their car somewhere.

When she didn’t find anything, she moved to the back of the car, prying open the truck and trying not to search so frantically. Vogel, having caught on to what she was doing, starting searching through every little nook and cranny he could reach in the car. All he could manage were some coins, a little lint, and a wrapper or two.

He tried to reach the backseat, to check the pockets behind him, but the way he turned his body around pulled at his still-open wound, sending another wave of pain shooting through him. It was at this moment he heard a triumphant “Oh thank fuck!”

After digging through a surprisingly full trunk, Amanda had managed to find a somewhat complete first aid kit. Rummaging through it quickly, she found what she was looking for: a huge fucking roll of gauze. It would do in a pinch, but they really needed to get medical help soon.

She hustled over to the passenger side where Vogel’s face was still scrunched together in fresh pain. Amanda reached out to gently touch his shoulder. “Hey, I’m gonna wrap your leg, okay?”

Vogel grunted, so she took that as an okay to go ahead.

Suddenly a scream followed by a gunshot pierced the air.

Amanda jumped a mile out of her skin. Vogel’s expression changed to one of an eerie calm. “Marzanna,” he whispered.

Strangely, the name felt familiar to her, and she looked inquisitively at Vogel.

His face contorted in pain, but he was still able to explain. “Murder lady. Crazy hair.”

Vague memories rose to the surface of her mind: a woman covered in blood who had shown up out of fucking nowhere with her seemingly-reluctant companion and had casually murdered most of the CIA dicks she and the Rowdies had beat up at the fancy mansion.

Amanda was pretty sure she should be afraid of Marzanna, or whatever her name was, but she was oddly drawn to her. _She’s badass!_ Amanda thought, _and maybe she could help us …_

Without much forethought Amanda began sprinting towards the storefront, following the noise right to its source. Once she got in, she wished Vogel was with her to see it; the inside of the store was quite a sight.

From what she could tell, there were maybe five or so bodies strewn about the place, and all employees from the looks of it. But the amount of blood splattered on the walls was more that Amanda ever wanted to see in her entire life. It wasn’t that she was squeamish – years of hyper-realistic hallucinations had somewhat desensitized her to the sight of blood – it was that that was way too much blood to only come from five people.

All gore aside, Amanda’s eyes connected almost immediately with those of the guy who she vaguely remembered was with Marzanna, looking not all that freaked out, considering all the bodies around them.

“Ken! Look at this shower smoothie! Mm, pumpkin spice latte! I don’t know what that is, but that sounds delicious …” Bart trailed off from teasing Ken as she saw who he was staring at.

Amanda could only imagine what a sight she must have been to them right then; dirty, sweaty, and scared, desperate for any help at all in fixing Vogel and getting her boys back.

Then again, in her defense, the pair were also something of a sight. Bart was covered in blood, although for her this was a completely normal circumstance. The outfit was new, being the old bellhop outfit they’d stolen almost a week ago, but the blood covering her was, to Bart, oddly comforting, acting like something that shielded her from the rest of the world. In comparison, Ken looked much more normal in his normal street clothes, even carrying a normal shopping basket, which was piled high with all kinds of normal food.

Amanda had not really given much thought to running towards the sound of gunfire when she’d ran from it not a few hours ago. She was beginning to regret her decision the longer the two just stared at her, not really dumbfounded, but fairly surprised to see someone else as disheveled as themselves. She tried to remember what it was Vogel had said the woman was called, and the jury was out on the other guy.

“Hey.”

Amanda turned to face Ken, grateful that someone else had started the conversation. “Hey,” she said, hoping he’d do all the formal introduction business.

“Mmm” Bart mumbled as she put her gun in the basket, picked up a box, ripped it open, and fumbled with opening a packet of Twinkies, not really invested in the goings-on around her. Ken gave her the stink eye for a minute before looking back at Amanda.

“Hey, I’m Ken. This is Bart” at this, he vaguely gestured to Bart, her mouth now covered in golden crumbs and white crème filling as she stuffed a whole Twinkie into her mouth in one bite.

“I’m Amanda,” she said cautiously. Suddenly, the name came back to her. “Uh … this is maybe weird, but, what’s Marzanna?”

Bart froze with a Twinkie mid-way to her mouth and its swift death. She felt a jolt of something buzz all the way down her spine. A weird, questioning noise came from her left, and she saw Ken shooting her confused looks out of the corner of her eyes. She scowled at Amanda.

“Don’t call me that,” Bart snapped. She still remembered – how could she forget? – how much she hated that awful name. “Where did you hear that name?” Bart demanded, pointing a bloody finger accusingly at Amanda.

As a Brotzman, Amanda wasn’t afraid of much and knew how important it was to stand ones ground, and so she didn’t back away, even though she was a little scared. Maybe. But, like, only just a little.

“Vogel, he told me. He …” Now that she came to think of it, Amanda had no idea how he’d known that name nor that the person it belonged to was inside the store.

Bart let out an exasperated sigh. “Who the hell is that?” Poor Ken looked as confused as ever.

Amanda was now wracking her brains for anything that might have related to this Marzanna thing and the murder twins she’d only just met a few days ago.

**CRASH!**

Ken and Amanda both jumped at the noise, and Amanda finally, reluctantly turned around to see –

“Fuck! Vogel!” Suddenly she was no longer worried about making a good impression with the weird woman covered in blood. She sprinted to the front of the store where Vogel had just staggered in, knocking over a cardboard store display while trying to maintain his balance. Just as he was about to fall again, she grabbed him by his shoulders. pulling one of his arms behind her neck and wrapping one of hers behind his back.

Even though the two were near to the same size, Vogel hung like a dead weight ( _don’t think about it like that don’t think about it like that_ , she chided herself). Ken approached him warily, but without hesitation moved to his other side and arranged their arms so Ken could also support him.

Bart had not moved since yet another dirt-clad punk had stumbled into the store, sending the punk girl running as well as Ken after he shoved his shopping basket into her hands. She watched the two of them try to support the other while she half-heartedly pawed through the basket looking for more sweets.

As the trio walked back over to where Bart hadn’t bothered to move from, the pieces slowly fell into place. Of course, she immediately recognized the punk as the runt of Project Incubus, the one they’d brought in towards the end, probably also the youngest. That’s how the punk girl knew about Bart’s Blackw- ehm, other name.

_Blackwing_ , she thought, shuddering almost imperceptibly _._ She might never have been properly introduced to the other subjects, but Bart knew well enough that the four crazies of Project Incubus would not allow themselves to be separated, at least not willingly, not without knocking some teeth out first and doing some damage. Bart chuckled at the memory. She also felt safe in assuming that they, like her, never mentioned that shit hole unless they were in absolutely dire straights, as the punk had done now. She hadn’t even told Ken anything about it yet, and she hadn’t exactly been planning to, but now …

“Marzanna?” the punk asked, looking pleadingly at Bart. The trio were now face-to-face with her, and the punk looked at her with a kind of desperation written so plainly in his eyes. Bart didn’t usually feel too many emotions – she bottled them like nobody’s business – but this would have tugged at even her heartstrings. It sent a clear message to her, the strings of the universe aligning almost perfectly for the holistic assassin.

She leaned in close to Vogel, not wanting the others to hear her despite their close proximity. “Blackwing?” Bart whispered.

Vogel gave the barest nod of his head, staring her straight down with an intensity that had been missing the last few hours. He could see it too, no, could sense it: it was time.

Ken was still hopelessly lost and was sending Amanda pleading looks that asked for her to explain what the heck was going on, even though he knew he’d go along with whatever it was. That was just how he rolled now. However, he had a feeling that this was something heavier, something closer to home for Bart than her typical universe-mandated killings.

Amanda could see Vogel was getting weaker by the minute, losing a fair amount of blood, and that they needed to get him back to the car, and soon. Just as she was getting ready to say something, Bart motioned towards the front door.

“Let’s go,” she mumbled, walking past the others and heading for her car.

It was plainly obvious to Bart, now. She’d been reconnected with her past at Blackwing through another one of its subjects, who had obviously been separated from the others. They must have cornered the others, just like they’d sent that tank to take her down, except some of them hadn’t been so lucky. Now they were back in captivity, forcibly taken back to that hellish place, and the universe was none too happy about it.

Vogel could see it too; before the fun at that mansion, he hadn’t seen Marzanna in years, maybe a decade even. The universe wanted them to work together to break the others out.

As Amanda and Ken carefully loaded Vogel back into his seat, Amanda sent Vogel a look, imploring him to explain himself. She grabbed for the gauze that he’d left on the dashboard so she could rewrap his leg and waited for him to explain.

“We need their help, Manda,” Vogel said between gritted teeth, the pain in his leg coming back with a vengeance. “To break ‘em out.”

It wasn’t hard for Amanda to imagine all the havoc they were going to wreck on the bastards who’d taken their friends, their family.

_Family._

Suddenly Amanda felt a pang of guilt in her stomach at the thought of her blood family being taken, too, not just her chosen family, and her incredibly rocky relationship with said blood family (and that was putting it lightly). She decided to push those thoughts down ignore them for now. _Worry about all that emotional shit later, okay?_ she told herself. _We’ve got shit to do._

Within ten minutes, both Ken’s and Amanda’s cars had been loaded with some hastily grabbed supplies – food and first-aid and the like – and they were rolling out of the parking lot. Amanda drove in front of Bart, Ken, and the dog so Vogel could keep navigating. She felt an anticipation coiling in her gut, a nervous excitement mix with a streak of pure determination to get her family back together and maybe deck a few bastards before the day was through.

_Time to fuck shit up._


	6. Pain and Permanence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd has an attack while Farah is away; they try to channel their hopelessness and her newly gained intel from her session with Friedkin into hatching an escape plan; Blackwing continues to be shitty to Dirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, we're all adults here, so there's no excuses. I meant to finish this before school started, and then before s2 dropped. Neither of those things happened. Let me just say that I truly admire and respect people who can publish one fic a day. I also overloaded my schedule this semester, so that's where most of my energy has gone lately.
> 
> That being said, I managed to spend some time on this next chapter. It turned out longer than I anticipated, but I hope you all like it. The ending is also different that I originally had in mind. Oh well!
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for sticking this through. This is my first multi-chapter fic, and while it's been a Beast, I have enjoyed writing it and all the responses I get, and hopefully I will do another in the future.

The beds weren’t the worst part of the experience, not by a long shot, but they were so uncomfortable that it wasn’t easy to ignore.

Todd was staring at the ceiling of his cell while laying on his back on his gross, lumpy bed, mattress springs digging like cat’s claws into his back. It was so irritating that it often kept him from sleeping properly. He was waiting for Farah to be brought back from wherever the guards had taken her, or dragged her, really. The point was he couldn’t do anything about it and it was endlessly frustrating.

_We got ourselves stuck in here, and Dirk was taken in too, maybe even Amanda!_ Todd felt helpless and hopelessly lost, because how was he supposed to come up with a plan to get everyone to safety? He had no idea where Dirk or Amanda were, or where he and Farah were being held, or how many people they’d have to fight off …

Todd felt tears prick at his eyes as his arms and legs began to sting. _I’m not sad! I’m angry!,_ he thought _, I’m tired and pissed off, I want to punch whoever was responsible for all this, especially that redhead dude, and this bed is aggressively uncomfortable, and…_

He was no longer laying on a lumpy excuse of a mattress that wouldn’t have cut it back at the factory. If he’d had coherent thought through the pain he would have wished for that poor excuse of a bed back. As it were, solid, cold metal spikes like soccer cleats were now piercing Todd’s skin, his arms, his legs, his back, his neck, everywhere.

He screamed. Blood began to pool around his body, seeping at an alarming rate out of the massive puncture wounds all over his backside. The most terrifying thing was not being able to see them, only feeling them as the tips of the spikes didn’t go all the way through his body.

Some part of his brain registered that this horrible thing must have been akin to what Amanda had gone through at some point. His guilt and horror at this barely-there realization didn’t register as much as the pain, but it certainly didn’t help either. Another memory, this time of Dirk, strapped to a table, chest whipped raw and oozing blood, flashed through his mind. How many times had Dirk endured something with this much pain and suffering?

The spikes were digging, clawing, gaining ground and leaving nothing behind, sapping his blood like vampires and draining him of all will to live.

Suddenly, he heard a loud banging noise, and he shook in his pain-induced stupor. Some of the spikes caught on other parts of his body and tore open new holes in his red, raw skin. His tattered clothes were now completely soaked, turned a dark reddish brown color from blood and dirt. Todd yelled again, part pain, part futile cry for help.

Amazingly, he got a response almost right away. “Todd!” Farah shouted, hearing his distress and answering in kind. Her mind was a scrambled mess of nerves from her encounter with Friedkin, and returning to her cell to a screeching friend only made her anxiety worse. She couldn’t remember the last time her stomach wasn’t in knots, ever tightening, constricting.

“Todd! What’s wrong? Talk to me!” She rushed over to the grate connecting their rooms via air ducts. His yelling was louder here; it pierced her ears but she needed answers. _Is he being attacked, she contemplated, interrogated and tortured for information?_

He was screaming near constantly now as every little motion of his body sent another set of spikes grazing across his skin, tearing the abused skin to shreds and sending blood everywhere. It was surely spilling over the bed and pooling on the floor by now. He could barely tell that there was another presence, another voice mixing with his hoarse one, begging for answers.

Farah remembered her first day in the cell and hearing Todd have some sort of episode, some panic-induced thing that he had been able to come down from eventually with her help. She started trying to talk him through similar breathing techniques that helped her. Except she couldn’t really speak them aloud, per se, rather she had to scream them back at Todd, fruitlessly trying to be louder than the man crying out desperately in hallucinatory pain.

“TODD! BREATHE WITH ME OKAY? IN FOR EIGHT SECONDS OUT FOR FOUR SECONDS! IN FOR EIGHT, OUT FOR – ” Farah’s yelling trailed off after what seemed like hours as she realized the screaming match had finally ended.

Todd had blissfully passed out – either from blood loss or pure exhaustion his poor, confused brain couldn’t tell – and was now sleeping fitfully in his perfectly normal although inadequate and uncomfortable bed. 

Her own exhaustion suddenly hit Farah like a freight train. _There’s nothing I can do to help him now_ , she tried to reassure herself. _And there’s nothing I can do about Amanda or Dirk. I need to rest up._

She was asleep before her head hit the mattress.

*

Todd’s throat was on fire, metaphorically, of course. Raw and aching from his yelling earlier, his cries to no one for help that he didn’t deserve, or at least he told himself.

He didn’t want to open his eyes because he didn’t want to see the blood. Looking for the blood that wasn’t there was seeing that it was fake, a hallucination, an attack. Admitting it was an attack was acknowledging that he had pararibulitis, that the events of his week with Dirk and Farah were real. Not just all the good parts, but the bad ones, too, like being kidnapped by a government organization that rationalized torturing children.

Eventually, he forced his eyes to open through the grime and the dried up tears, prying them open only to immediately shut them. He had stared directly into the harsh lighting of the cell, and even if he had been doing it before it had stung even then, forcing him to stay awake for who knows how long.

Todd groaned as he slowly rolled onto his side, stabilizing himself on his hands. He touched the mattress carefully, as if the spikes might return at any moment and shoot straight through his palms, in one side and out the other. Thankfully, no spikes appeared.

When the world stopped spinning and his vision was finally clear, Todd pushed himself up. His shoulder joints popped, and several of his other cramped muscles began complaining and protesting the movement.

Todd scrunched his face, took a deep breath, and resisted the urge to lay back down and just give up. _Come on you piece of shit_ , he bitched to himself, _you’ve got shit to do, people to save_.

**They may want to be saved, but not by someone like you** , a treacherous part of his brain supplied, **they don’t need you. They hate you, they never want to see you again, remember?**

Todd grimaced, weary from constantly fighting his stupid brain for all it was worth.

_Yeah, well, that may be true, but this is what they’re gonna get. Dirk needs me. Amanda needs me._

He crawled over to the air vent, intent on getting things back on track; _we need to find a way out, find where the others are being held captive, and get everybody out._

Todd opened his mouth to speak but the words caught in his throat, which was sore and in pain. He tried to clear his throat but that only increased the scratchy feeling keeping him from saying anything.

He finally managed to croak out one word. “Farah?”

For a few tense moments, there was only silence. Then, he faintly heard a rustling, like someone moving around, and then a quiet, barely-there whisper, “Todd?”

“What happened?” he croaked.

Farah took a deep breath, pressing her fingers into her eyes to try to relieve the pressure of a mounting headache. She didn’t really want to recall what had happened in the other room, but she needed to tell someone.

“That guy from the diner,” she started shakily, “Lt. Friedkin, he interrogated me. Or,” she chuckled under her breath, “at least he tried to.” She let herself feel a spot of pride for a moment, remembering how she’d been tight-lipped around the bastard.

That moment of pride was quickly swept away as anxiety slammed back into her. “H-he knew everything about me and you, he said he killed Detective Estevez and burned down the Spring mansion and the Ridgely, he said that Amanda and Vogel were missing but that he was going to hunt them down and he – ”

“Whoa, Farah, slow down” Todd said firmly.

“He’s going to find them and then hurt them and then probably kill us because he doesn’t need us and Dirk and Amanda oh my god there’s going to get hurt if they get caught and – ”

“Hey!” Todd spoke a little louder this time.

“It’s all my fault!” She sighed in frustration, mostly at herself. “If I had just been paying more attention I could have stopped that jerk from taking you and me and Dirk in but I couldn’t have helped Amanda unless she’d been with us and now she’s going to get hurt or tortured or worse because of me and – ”

“Farah!” Todd yelled, finally breaking Farah from her downward spiral.

By this point she was clenching her fists at her sides, nails digging deep into her palm, and a desperately heavy weight was pressing insistently into her ribcage. _Start your breathing exercise,_ said a much calmer voice in her mind.

Todd listened to her labored breathing, as it went from shallow and short to heavy and long, hoping that she was at least a little calmer now.

_Alright, so ginger dick is a dick_ , thought Todd of their assailant. _No surprise there. What was that last bit? Amanda escaped?_ He didn’t really want to process anything else at the moment; rescuing Dirk, getting himself and Farah out, and eventually reconnecting with Amanda were his top priorities, in that order.

“First of all, Amanda is going to be okay,” he started slowly.

_Amanda is going to be okay_ , Farah thought to herself. A new mantra to add to her already ridiculously long list.

“Our best bet right now is for us to break out, find Dirk, rendezvous with her somehow, and then get as far away from wherever here is as possible.” Todd reasoned.

Farah stifled a cold, emotionless laugh at that. It was an impossible totally improbable string of maybes that would require the universe aligning to occur. Still, she wanted – nay, needed – to get out of there and to Amanda. _And Dirk!_ she thought, consciously avoiding that train of thought.

“Okay, so ignoring everything about the outside world, our immediate next step should be trying to break out.”

Todd began bustling around the room, searching for anything, a crack, a hole, a tool to make a hole…

“Going out the doors would be impossible because – shit – they’re locked,” she said, grunting and then sighing after checking the locks on the door once again. “And also we’d be walking directly into the path of the guards. We don’t know how many there are, and I probably couldn’t take them all.”

_Maybe we could get out through the ceiling! No, wait_ , Todd thought, inspiration fleeing as quickly as it had struck. There were no windows in the ceiling; it was just cracked planes of that gross popcorn textile from the mid-80’s.

Meanwhile, Farah had reasoned her way to the only plausible conclusion: the air vents.

“Todd!” she yelled, demanding and fully receiving his attention. “Can you pry open the air vent on your side?”

Todd’s fingers scrambled at the cover on the air vent. It was newer, he could tell because there wasn’t that much rust on it. It was stubbornly screwed in place and refused to wiggle even a little bit. _Well, maybe if I can get my finger under it just right … FUCK!_

“What happened?” Farah asked, nerves coiling in her gut as Todd cried out.

He pulled his finger out of his mouth where he had been sucking on it. He now had a small, somewhat deep cut on his right pointer finger.

“I tried to tear the cover off, but my finger got caught on a nail or something,” Todd spoke in a rush.

_Oh no. Ohnononono now the operation’s gonna fail before it even started I can’t do this on my own what happens now what – Stop! Stop. Thinking._ Farah steeled herself from spiraling panic. _You’re overreacting. Just breathe._

“You need to wrap it. Rip off part of your shirt or pants and make a tourniquet.”

As Todd began to wrap his finger, he took another look at the air vent, trying to imagine what Farah looked like on the other side. _How many days have we been here?_   he thought. _What’s happened to Dirk? To Amanda?_

“What do we do? I can’t get the grate off the vent,” said Todd, holding the torn cloth around his finger. “We can’t open the doors either.” He tried his best to hide his labored breathing, but Farah knew he was just as tense as she was at that moment.

“We could try to fight our way out whenever someone opens it, but we don’t know how many people we’d have to get past,” said Farah, hoping the severity of her words hit home.

A beat, a moment, gears sliding into place. Resolve solidifying.

“It’s the only plan we’ve got.”

*

BANG!

Dirk jolted awake somewhere across the universe.

Before his mind could start to race with worry, lacing together painful nightmares and a hellish reality, he saw the familiar face of the guards who normally stood outside his door. Instead of giving him a moment to get out of bed at his own pace, the men came over to Dirk’s bed and roughly yanked him up with no warning.

_Quite rude, really,_ Dirk thought very much to himself. He found it had been shockingly easy for him to fall back into his old habits at Blackwing, mainly being quiet and wary and compliant around the guards. They didn’t really care at all if he got a little jostled on his way to his next torture scene.

He was led down a familiar and drab grey hallway, taking a left instead of a right at the fork in their path.

_So it’ll be pain, then_. Dirk had come to learn that the hallway on the right led to rooms where he would be subjected to tests and be forced to solve their stupid questions, which he more often than not failed to solved, resulting in him being shocked or screamed at or a load of other unpleasant things.

The hallway to the right, however, that one was markedly worse. It was for when the twisted people of Blackwing – if you could even call them that – decided that they wanted to hurt Dirk. He was sure they tried to justify it to themselves; they were testing Dirk’s pain tolerance is all.

They reached a room with no labels, no signs, no indicators of what was going to be done to him. The guards moved to stand on either side of the door and pushed Dirk inside, quickly shutting him in after.

“Oof!” He said quietly as his body collided into another.

It was one of the technicians, or whatever they called themselves, who would probably be running the ‘experiment’ that day. He gave Dirk a sickly smile, one that set Dirk’s nerves on extreme edge.

_Why would he smirk like that at what was about to be done if he didn’t like doing it?_

“Hold still, Icarus.” It was all the instruction Dirk got before some scratchy cloth was shoved over his face. He could feel the heat from the other man’s body, they were standing so close together. As the man reached behind Dirk to tie the blindfold Dirk felt their arms brush.

Already moving into a quiet headspace to try to stay calm, it was easy for Dirk to imagine those as someone else’s arms. There was no stubble grazing his face, as there would be in a hug from a certain someone else, and it wasn’t even really a hug, no, it was much less pleasant…

A hand landed on his back, gently leading him further into the room. Walking blindly, he had no choice but to trust the man urging him forward.

They stopped as Dirk’s knees knocked into a table of some sort. The technician roughly grabbed Dirk’s shoulders and turned him to face one another. Then he started undoing the jumpsuit’s buttons.

_At least buy me a drink, first._ Dirk was still mildly shocked anytime someone in the facility did this to him, but he’d also gotten desensitized to it. They usually only did this to put electrodes on him or heart monitors or something else needed for a test of his vitals.

What was more distressing was when the man moved to shove off the shirt of the jumpsuit, leaving Dirk’s chest completely exposed.

His mind was now racing a mile a minute. _Why do they need to see my back? Is this a physical? Why would they blindfold me for something like that?_

The wicked smile of the technician flashed through his mind once again. It was the kind that sent shivers down spines.

Dirk didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts, however, as he was again being pushed and maneuvered by the man. He could tell he was being lowered, bent over forwards until his bare chest met a cold, hard metal surface.

His heart was beating far too fast, blood rushing through him despite the chilling temperature of the table, but there was nothing he could do.

The technician reached under Dirk to grab his legs and lift them onto the table. It was a clinical table, similar to those seen in doctor’s offices, but somehow more sterile and even less human-friendly.

Dirk had to stifle a yelp at the contact, especially as his face was smushed into the table. The metal pressed into his cheeks as he turned his head to the side, hoping it would hurt less even though his neck was now in a weird position.

_Please let this be over with quickly_ , Dirk thought, trying his hardest to send his thoughts directly to the inbox of the universe. _Maybe they have a comments and complaints box_ , Dirk pondered, forcing his mind to wander so he didn’t have to imagine what was going to happen next. _That would be rather much more efficient_.

There was a rustling sound, then a sound like keys jangling, and suddenly leather straps were being clipped on either side of the table. Dirk tried to stay as still as possible; if he even moved an inch, the technician could make the straps tighter.

The leather stung on his raw, sore back from the whipping, but again, there was nothing he could do about it. If he complained about needing new bandages or salve or anything to make him significantly better, it would be met with stony silence and unpleasant looks from people who turned Dirk’s stomach.

Strapped face-down to a table and blindfolded, Dirk was essentially left with his sense of smell and sound. Well, just sound, really; the room was too sterile, too clinical, to even smell of anything, and he was too used to his own horrid aroma to notice it.

It was all he could focus on, the sound, even though it made the churning roiling mess of his stomach somehow worse. Boots clinked across a tile floor; water started running then was shut off; there was the scratchy, stiff, squishy sound of sterile gloves slipping onto dry crisp hands; a chair was rolled up next to the table, Dirk assumed.

There was a click, and then suddenly the table was being lowered to the ground. Dirk choked on a breath and waited for the sound of another click locking the chair in place. He let out a shaky breath, trying to keep it as quiet as possible.

The room was deathly quiet, pregnant with possibilities, all of them horrible.

Dirk knew what it felt like to go with the flow of the universe, to not know where he was heading next. At times, he’d appreciated the open lifestyle, the surprise and adventure in discovering a path while on it. But in this moment, more so than any during his recent stint at Blackwing, he was petrified of what was coming next, because the universe was being cruelly silent.

_Breathe, that’s all you can do_ , Dirk thought, stubbornly hoping his heart would stop beating like it was about to explode.

The technician took an antiseptic wipe and swiped it quickly up Dirk’s back, in between the shoulder blades and below the neck.

Dirk hissed. The wipe was cold, and it had caught him off-guard, but it was more of an ingrained response than anything else.

_Breathe, dammit!_ A hearty amount of fear and worry were now building and running rampant inside of Dirk, anticipation driving him mad. He felt a bead of sweat fall down his brow onto the blindfold.

A loud buzzing sound filled the room.

The technician began moving things around on his work table next to the chair. He quickly referenced the image printed on the paper in front of him. Just because he was about to do this to an unwilling patient didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get it right!

It was a simple enough design: a triangle with a circle and a line through it. It wouldn’t even take that long, except he’d been given express directions to make it pretty big on the subject’s back.

The buzzing made it hard for Dirk to think coherently, so instead he just frantically tried to string words together: _Jackets, corgi, shark, Farah, Amanda, Todd. Todd Brotzman, Todd, Todd is –_

Dirk jolted, fighting against the straps holding him in place, as his back felt like it was being repeatedly stabbed with a thousand little needles all at once.

_A tattoo_ , a voice in his head provided him. He’d never wanted one and barely knew anything about them, but he had hypothesized that they wouldn’t be pleasant. What a shame to prove that theory here and now.

He grit his teeth, grinding them together and holding his breath, waiting for the pain to pass.

The technician dug the needle into the man’s back. He’d been told it was okay, great even, to cause as much pain during the process as possible. He was more than happy to oblige.

Dirk felt himself slipping, sliding down into unconsciousness. The pain itself wasn’t that bad, but it was the combination of the feeling of needles and his already sore, raw back and his sheer exhaustion from being back at Blackwing for who knew how long.

One thought nagged at his brain, but he didn’t have the strength to grasp it before it flittered away. He had a feeling that somewhere across the universe someone else was in pain, was suffering and needed help. But there was nothing Dirk could do.

_I’m never getting out of here._

He felt absolutely helpless. His last thoughts as sleep begrudgingly came to him, offering him a blip of solace in this total hellscape, were of a certain guy with a guitar, holding a corgi …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering how I wanted this to really end, I wanted Blackwing to brand Dirk (like with actual hot metal) with the Icarus symbol in the same place as I describe in the fic. I changed this because I couldn't really figure out the logistics, and also because it seemed way more evil than Blackwing actually appears to be in s2. 
> 
> Speaking of, s2 has been phenomenal! I'm sure it's obvious now but this story is officially an au. I could never have guessed how wrong my "prediction" of s2 would be! I have absolutely loved every minute of this wild ride and I can't wait to get inspired and write some new fics based on Wendimoor and Bergsberg and whatnot.
> 
> There will be two more chapters, a finale in two parts. I think I'll publish them this week or next, but it will be fairly soon because *spoiler* I've had them drafted for, I shit you not, MONTHS. I WROTE THEM IN JULY PEOPLE. 
> 
> Anyways, love y'all! Comments and kudos always appreciated <333


	7. Finale, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda, Vogel, Bart, Ken, and Rapunzel roll up to Blackwing, out for blood and ready to get their families back together again.

_Oh my God. We actually made it._

Amanda had burst out of the car and was practically vibrating with energy. She scanned the horizon, taking in their surroundings.

Both their car and Bart and Ken’s were now half-parked in a garden square which was situated between two rather nondescript grey buildings. Even though they were bland and boring government buildings, the secret they hid sent out a weird, sort of intimidating vibe. _Can a building look and feel this depressing?_

Bart, covered in blood from the rude guards they’d met at the gate, seemed to feel the same way at first. Then, she grinned, flicking the gun she’d just acquired. It was the kind of look that secretly still scared Ken a little, because it meant that she was ready to get down to business.

“Okay Vogel,” Amanda looked over to the passenger side as Ken helped him up and out of the car. Despite his injury, she could tell Vogel was getting his energy back just from being near the other Rowdies.  They were ready to get their boys back. “Where to? Which building?”

“Yeah! Yes! Let’s do this! ‘Manda, they’re in that –” Vogel stopped abruptly, suddenly not so confident. “No, err, that one.”

“Wait, hold on, you just pointed at two different buildings.” Ken had been skeptical of Vogel’s ability to track the others. Seeing is believing, and they’d gotten to what he assumed was the right place, but Vogel didn’t seem as sure as he had just moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” Amanda walked towards Vogel. She knew he didn’t really like being touched but it helped calm him down just to be near each other.

“I’m not confused!” he seemed to explode with a wave of renewed energy. “They’re in there, it’s just the smell! Food!”

Amanda knew she was getting a side glance from Ken on that one, but now she was the one who was confused. “Wait, food? You don’t mean real food, right? We just ate at the gas station.”

“Food! Like _you_ food!”

“Me food? You mean, like, my emotions, like that thing you guys do?”

“Yes, yeah yeah!” Vogel was too hyped up to not start talking over Amanda as she tried to figure out what he’d meant. “Over there!” Now he was pointing at the second building.

“Where are the other Rowdies?” He pointed at the first building. Amanda still had no clue what was messing with Vogel. “So, wait, how are you feeling those emotions? I’m not having an attack.”

Vogel looked so tense he might explode, torn between reuniting his family and wanting to gorge himself, intoxicated by the strong pull of emotions from the other building.

Amanda felt like that conversation was important but it also wasn’t really getting anywhere. She jumped a bit when Bart’s hand poked her in the arm from behind. She turned to face her.

“Look,” said Bart seriously. “I came here,” at which Ken interrupted “to help you get your friends back!” Bart looked over her shoulder at Ken, irritated but not angry. Just anxious, fingers tingling with the need to get the job done. Check off every name on the list in her head given to her by the universe. “And to kill people. The universe wants me to, everything else will work itself out. Just pick a building and let’s go.”

Bart had a good point. They were sitting ducks waiting in the courtyard any longer. “Okay. Let’s go to the first building and get the Rowdies back together. Then, we find the others. Everyone good?”

After receiving stoic head nods from Bart and Ken and a frantic one from Vogel, she walked back to the car and took out her baseball bat. _Let’s do this._

*

“Todd, please, just breathe. In for four seconds, out for ten seconds. Breathe.” Farah’s voice wasn’t shaky anymore as she tried to lead Todd through yet another pararibulitis attack. They’d both forgotten how many he’d had, nor did they really have any idea how long they’d been wherever the hell they were. Farah’s voice was steady but not confident, because she knew she couldn’t really do anything to actually help Todd.

He was too tied up in the moment to listen to her. The ground was quite literally lava, and not in the fun adorable way that children like to pretend. The smell of burning flesh – his flesh – felt so grossly real that he was just about ready to throw up. He wasn’t quite sure he could though; the lava had long since burned a hole straight through his stomach. God, he was so far gone in the attack. Lava was mixing with blood was mixing with …

_Thump._

_Thump._

Garbled, mangled voices just outside the door.

Todd only vaguely registered the new noises and voices. _It’s probably someone coming to take me away, maybe they’ll drug me and the attack will stop…_

The _thumps_ started to come quicker and harder and louder. The yelling was definitely getting louder too, until –

_Swish! **Boom!**_ The door forcefully swung open, connecting solidly with the wall behind it. Todd jolted, freaked out by the noise but very much still being burned alive.

Even though his vision was swimming a little from disorientation and confusion, Todd had his wits about him enough to recognize the four faces that stood in a cryptic circle around his body curled up on the floor. As the bad energy was being sucked away and the familiar blue light left his body, Todd felt sweet waves of release wash over him. He started to uncurl himself, to stretch his sore muscles, to close his eyes, _just for a minute…_

“What the fuck, Todd?”

_Well, so much for sleeping_. But he couldn’t really find it in himself to be irritated in that moment because _holy shit! was that Amanda?!_

There she was, standing across the rooms, arms folded across her chest. Next to her stood the Rowdy Three, back together again and looking happy for it, although worse for the wear. Behind them Todd could just make out a frizzy mop of bloody hair and the dude standing next to her, whom he recognized as the people from the Spring mansion who’d tried to kill …

He coughed, trying to clear his scratchy, sore throat and his clogged, confused mind. “Amanda?” he croaked.

It looked like she was glaring daggers at him. _I deserve some of that_. But Todd knew her well enough to notice that she could tell something was off. _Suck it up; she doesn’t need to know. Maybe I can hide it, because she’d never believe me anyway…_

Amanda couldn’t contain herself anymore, but she didn’t feel too particularly bad at that moment about slamming her brother with questions. She needed answers, and _fast_.

“What’s going on, Todd? What happened? What’s wrong with your hand? Where’s –”

“Amanda??!” Suddenly, a familiar voice seemed to come out of nowhere. “Is that you?!”

All her anger and confusion left her in a flurry. Amanda wasn’t having an attack but she felt like she’d just been dowsed with a bucket of ice cold water. _I know that voice!_

“Farah? Farah, where are you?”

“The air vent,” Todd provided, definitely not meeting her eyes but rather gesturing vaguely in the direction of the wall. “She’s in a different room somewhere, but we talk, we talk to each other through it, the air vent.”

“Amanda I’m here!” Farah had darted away from the vent when Todd’s door had burst open, but upon hearing voices she was sure she knew, she was practically glued to it. If her anxiety levels were abnormally high from being cooped up in a cell completely alone and feeling like a failure, now they were through the roof. Not knowing what was happening on the other side or who was there was eating her alive. Her only reassurance was the fact that _one of those voices sounded like, no, it had to be, Amanda._

Ken, of all people, was the first to approach the wall. “It sounds like she’s on the other side. You would just need to break through the wall.”

“Who’s that?” Farah really really did not like not knowing what was happening, but she felt a glimmer of hope come alive inside her. _I’m just on the other side? Maybe I can crawl through the vent … there’s no way Amanda and Todd can tear down the –_

“That’s Ken, from the Spring mansion. He and Bart agreed to help us.” As Amanda offered this information up, the Rowdies shared a knowing look. It was at times like these that she suspected they were telepathic, on the same wavelength or something. Vogel squirmed from where he stood, Martin’s arm wrapped protectively around his waist to keep him standing.

She saw Cross and Gripps tighten their grips on the metal bars they’d ripped from the other building to use as pseudo-weapons. She still had her own, of course, but as she put two and two together, she offered it to Martin. He gently took it from her and quietly passed it to Vogel, whose face lit up at finally having something to terrorize this place with.

“Oh, uh, okay,” Farah stumbled over her words as she tried to process what Amanda was saying. “You teamed up with murderers to come rescue us?” Farah was sure if she rubbed her temples hard enough, really dug her fingers in, that eventually one day her constant throbbing headache caused by her gang of weirdoes would go away.

“Holistic assassin!” Bart offered up.

“Look, it doesn’t matter.,” Amanda didn’t bother a look in Bart’s direction but began backing up towards the door. “You need to back away from the wall right now, okay, Farah?”

“What?” Farah could just feel herself developing high blood pressure with every passing moment. “Why?”

“Just do it!” Todd’s voice strangely seemed farther away, and now that she thought about it, so did Amanda’s …

The decidedly clearer voices that she could now hear seemed like some weird combination between a purr and a growl … no, it was definitely a growl.

“Back up now.” Martin ordered.

Farah still had no idea what was going on, but she was more than intelligent enough to guess that whoever those guys were with on the other side of the wall were going to try and tear it down, and she did not want to be anywhere near that when it happened. She tried to flatten herself as much as she could against the opposite wall while simultaneously curling up like a ball. _Protect the inner organs. Brace for impact. Close the eyes, cover the head._

As the Rowdy Three lifted their bats, Amanda couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride and joy. Her boys – no, her family – was back together again, attacking this wall with a tenacity and vitality that was stupefying.

Vogel felt like he hadn’t done something this satisfying in years.

Within two minutes there was a sizeable hole in the wall that continued to crumble as Martin stepped through, offering Farah a hand up and out of that hell hole. Moving past the rubble and the dust, her eyes cut through the crowd to find the one person she was dying to see.

“Amanda!”

“Farah!”

Farah rushed past Martin, past Todd, past everyone and right into Amanda’s arms.

Amanda buried her face in the crook of Farah’s neck, breathing her in – _oh, wait, no, nope, bad move, no showers in CIA government prison._

_I can’t believe it. She’s safe, she’s okay. She came for me_. Farah felt the stabilizing realness of actually having Amanda in her own arms. She nuzzled her nose into Amanda’s hair, wild and everywhere and beautiful as ever. She couldn’t help a small kiss, just the tiniest brush of her lips to the crown of Amanda’s head.

Amanda hummed, surprised but not entirely shocked. Mostly just relieved to know that Farah was okay and alive _and hers_.

“Ew. Ken, that’s so gross.”

The women let go of one another a little too quickly, avoiding each other’s gaze and definitely not blushing.

Ken shot them an apologetic look and did his signature shrug. He added – or rather risked – a light punch to Bart’s shoulder. He knew even if she complained that it hurt she was only doing it to razz him.

Farah finally let herself meet Amanda’s eyes, eager to speak to the one person she’d missed like crazy (although she’d never admit it to herself). That was when Amanda gasped, reaching out a hand to lightly brush Farah’s cheek.

“What happened?” Amanda asked, concern shining out of her soft, hazel eyes.

Farah was confused for a moment; the days blended together into one mushy pile of time spent in her cell, she wasn’t sure she remembered what …

_Friedkin._

“It’s nothing,” she said, hoping to reassure Amanda. “He hit me, I punched him. We’re even.” Even though she really didn’t want to let her vendetta with ginger boy go, she was much happier to focus on the people in front of her in the moment.

Amanda crinkled her brow, curious but not terribly interested in pushing. Besides, watching the blush spread slowly over Farah’s face from her hand on her cheek was much more satisfying.

Farah cleared her throat, pulling her focus back to the situation at hand. She took a quick look around the room to assess the situation, and she was met with quite a sight.

Still in a huddle by the wall were the Rowdies, standing leisurely but holding their bats and ready to fight at the drop of a pin. Todd was sitting, hunched over on his cot, apparently still recovering from his attack. Ken walked over to try and help him stand on still-wobbly legs, leaving Bart by the door, biting her fingernails like she always did when her instincts were eating her alive. _I’m surprised the first person I saw wasn’t Dirk, he’s so tall compared to …_

As realization washed over her Farah’s nerves kicked back into high gear. _Dirk’s not here_.

She turned to Amanda still in front of her, no further than an arm’s length away.

She had a knowing look on her face, like she knew that they had to approach reality eventually.

“Where’s Dirk?”


	8. Finale, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the moment you've all been waiting for! Where is Dirk? Will Todd and Dirk be reunited? What's this romantic stuff going on between Farah and Amanda? Where is the dog?! 
> 
> All will be revealed in the highly anticipated ending to this fic!!!

_Speak of the devil …_

Amanda had confided in Farah and Todd that she and the others had searched the second building as thoroughly as they could and had found no trace of Dirk anywhere. Heartbroken, they’d searched the first building, all four floors, only to also come up short one holistic detective.

Somehow they hadn’t run into any security guards either, or doctors or scientists or any Blackwing personnel at all. It was unsettling, but eventually, they had to move on. Deciding that they might need to change their strategy, the gang left the building and moved towards their cars.

Except now, there was another car that wasn’t there before: a plain, nondescript, suspicious-looking white van with the side door wide open.

There was really nowhere for a group of nine people to hide between the building and the car, so they simply drew their weapons and forged on.

Just as Farah was starting to think the van was abandoned and they could use it to escape, she saw someone approaching. _Not this guy again!_

_Hugo Friedkin_.

The Rowdies grew visibly more tense, growling again at the prospect of beating that piece of shit to the ground. Amanda felt her blood boil just knowing what those assholes had done to her boys. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Farah raise the gun she’d just stolen from where they’d found it lying on a desk. Bart smiled that wicked grin again, and –

“DIRK!” Todd’s entire body was suddenly tense and his eyes were alight with passion and anger. At first Amanda couldn’t see what he was staring at, but when she did, her jaw dropped.

Friedkin had been dragging what she would have guessed was a sack of potatoes from how hard he was working but which turned out to be a half-unconscious Dirk.

Todd had a better view; he’d already approached Amanda’s car and was well on his way to socking _that ginger son of a bitch right in his stupid face_.

Dirk had several cuts on his face and arms, especially where rope was digging into his wrists, keeping his hands behind his back; _they’re way too tight_ , Todd thought. Dirk was dressed in a jumpsuit which was open on top, revealing a torn and bloody undershirt.

Todd was sure he’d never felt angrier in his entire life. He was in a near-blind rage, pissed as hell, and that was dangerous. Any lethargy that remained from the pararibulitis attack earlier fled from him as he sprinted around the car to confront Friedkin.

“Not you again.” Even though the small, angry one was approaching him, Hugo was more nervous to see the strong black woman again, this time with a gun, also looking pissed as hell. He moved to reach for a weapon in his belt and came back with a knife …

Only to have it smacked out of his hand by the Hobbit-man staring up at him with unparalleled fury. Friedkin wouldn’t have guessed that this short loser could be so intimidating.

“Let Dirk go.” Todd snarled, feelings of protectiveness spurring him on.

Friedkin looked him up and down. _No weapon. This idiot came at me with nothing? And they told me I was “too stupid to properly execute the duties of Executive Director.”_

“Not a chance.” He had direct orders from his superiors to escort Project Icarus to another facility in the next state over, to bolt if and when their facility fell.

Friedkin also had a gun.

Todd felt cold hard metal touch his forehead. It wasn’t with the same slamming intensity of their meeting at the diner, meant to knock him out. It was meant to get him to back down. He was literally staring down the barrel of a gun. _And all for Dirk._

Dirk was only starting to come around, and even though he had no idea where he was or what was even happening, he could well make out Friedkin, his attacker and captor, holding up a gun. Dirk had to squint to get his vision to come into _focus, stop swimming, come back to reality and see that Friedkin, that sick bastard, he was … was he aiming at …_

“Todd?” he managed to croak out.

Todd desperately wanted to turn away and look Dirk in the eye, to reassure him that _yes,_ _we came, we were going to rescue you, we always were_ , but the gun pressed harder into his forehead.

“I said, let him go.”

“You know what? I don’t even remember how many bullets I have left.” The air became tangibly heavier. Friedkin was outnumbered and they all knew it, but they also knew he was quite the loose canon. Farah had no idea what their best option was, what would get everyone out alive, and her mind was spinning as the situation escalated. They might all have been hit with a stun gun, because no one moved a muscle.

“Want to count them for me?” Friedkin smiled that million-dollar smile that would have been handsome if it didn’t add to his madman vibe.

“Todd …” Dirk was awake enough now to –

_Click._

*

_Click._

*

_Click click click._

“What the?”

“Go, go, go!” Farah motioned at everyone to move forward. _Full steam ahead! Release the hounds (aka the Rowdies)! Beat that mofo!_

Todd was the first person to punch the daylights out of Friedkin. It sent waves of pain pulsing through his hand and the cut that was still healing on it. He couldn’t have cared less, though, as Amanda and Bart and all the Rowdies descended on their prey.

Todd’s attention was on an entirely different vulnerable guy _._

“Dirk? Are you … Here, let me get that. Hold still.” Todd saw the knife where Friedkin had dropped it on the ground, picked it up, and used it to cut the ropes on Dirk’s wrists.

Then he took Dirk into a bone-crushing bear hug.

“Ow!” Dirk whimpered. His back felt like it was on fire, still red and raw from the beatings and the tattoo. He wanted nothing more than to return the hug, but he’d been through hell and back, so he wasn’t exactly in the best shape for hugs (even though he craved them).

“Oh God, sorry. Shit, I didn’t, I forgot you were hurt, I mean more than hurt, Dirk, I’m so sorry, I …”

Dirk smiled up at Todd, feeling like he could get hopelessly lost in his stunningly clear blue eyes. _I can’t believe this_ , he thought, _and Farah_ _… Todd came, he really came, he almost … almost died for me … The sunlight reflecting off of Todd’s hair gave his savior an almost-halo …_

“Todd …” There was no way he was going to be able to verbalize everything he was thinking and feeling, the intense relief and joy and euphoria and _love_ and –

Todd brought his hands up to softly stroke Dirk’s cheeks, careful to avoid opening any of the cuts there.

“I’m here. Dirk, I …” Todd sort of trailed off, realizing that he probably couldn’t put into words exactly everything that he was feeling either.

With everything to gain and nothing to lose, he placed a soft kiss on Dirk’s mouth.

Both their lips were severely chapped, throats dry, faces covered in dirt and blood, marred by what the government – and the universe, for that matter – had had the nerve to do to them: to throw them into death mazes and trajectories of crossbow arrows, to rip them apart, to torture them and tear their still-beating hearts right out of their chests –

And yet this was better than all of that.

Dirk pulled away, noses touching, and beamed at Todd. He felt at a loss for words again ( _that could be some of the drugs still talking_ ), but he knew that now, they shared a much deeper connection. Dirk carefully brought his arms up over Todd’s shoulders to stop the world from being so wobbly all of a sudden. Todd gently grabbed a hold of his waist.

There was still much pain in Dirk’s chest, but it was nothing compared to the crushing weight that had just been lifted. _Todd is here. He came. He kissed me!_

As his vision cleared once again, and his breathing slowed down, he leaned forward again. This time, it was soft, slow, sensual. The world slowed to a stop around them. It was just Dirk and Todd. Everything clicked into place and they devoured each other.

The world was, however, still moving all around them.

Friedkin wasn’t dead, but he was severely injured. Farah had finally convinced Martin to pull Bart and Vogel off of him, although neither seemed satisfied despite landing the most blows.

Eventually, they caved, and Farah had to steel herself just to remain standing under the murderous glare Bart was sending her way. What Farah wanted to say was, “Not now,” and she hoped she was sending off confident-enough vibes to sway the holistic assassin.

Bart ultimately released their staring contest to go stand next to Ken. He took her a bit by surprise, judging by her little yelp, when he suddenly wrapped her in a huge hug.

Farah didn’t know if Ken was hugging Bart to reassure her in some way or to stabilize himself after what had just went down. Farah shook her head a few times, trying to clear it as best she could.

Without looking up, she felt a little warmth spread over her as Amanda came to stand by her. When Amanda’s hand slipped into hers, it felt so right it was almost painful. Farah squeezed their fingers, and Amanda squeezed back.

Farah heard Amanda chuckle, then felt her nudge her in the shoulder. “Look, Farah.” Farah looked first into Amanda’s lovely eyes, and then followed her gaze to find –

Dirk and Todd going at it in the dirt next to the white van.

Farah couldn’t help but roll her eyes and chuckle a little too. _About damn time._

Feeling confident, emboldened by what Dirk and Todd were doing and the success of their mission and the good hits she’d landed on Friedkin, Farah wrapped Amanda in her arms. When their lips connected, it was with none of the hesitation or gentility of the boys’ kiss.

Amanda smiled and laughed at first, pulling away just long enough to give Farah a knowing look, then diving back in for more. She teased her tongue against Farah’s lips, and Farah was more than happy to let her in. Amanda didn’t hesitate, slowly mapping every inch of Farah’s mouth, thoroughly enjoying what she’d been dreaming about in the days leading up to the rescue. Well, really ever since they’d met.

Bart, for her part, found all of this intimacy disgusting. _Gross_ , she thought as she turned back to their car. The Rowdy Three were looking like they still had a ton of pent-up energy, and when the leader with the glasses motioned towards her car, she held up her hand. “Just a sec.”

She opened the door and Rapunzel bounded out, eager to lick as many faces as possible. Bart picked her up and walked away, but not before signaling the boys with a head nod. 

The fervor with which they went after the car was insane and animalistic, but Bart didn’t really care. _It wasn’t mine. And if we need another the universe will provide._

And even though the universe hadn’t been so lovely to her in the recent past, sending all of those tanks and government bastards after her, it had finally allowed her something nice. _Ken._ Ken, who’d chosen to stay, and even to help, despite everything she was and would continue to be.

Vogel yelled as he was finally allowed to attack the car, days of pent-up energy and aggression all released in one glorious moment.

His excitement startled Amanda, who reluctantly pulled away from Farah.

Farah blinked slowly, not even realizing she’d closed her eyes. The first thing she saw was, of course, Amanda, her face surrounded in a ring of soft, golden sunlight. It made her eyes look like molten chocolate. Her smile was positively radiant. She was like –

“Hey! Can we get a little help, here?” Todd called, not exactly eager to break up the moment happening when everyone had let him and Dirk have theirs. He was now trying his best to help Dirk shuffle to his feet, but it was proving harder than he expected.

Dirk grimaced every time he moved, although he tried to politely hide it, and Todd wasn’t strong enough to carry the tall Brit.

Farah gave Todd a curt nod, then scanned the area. Vogel was still injured, and so was Dirk, and Todd wasn’t great on his feet either…

She looked down at Amanda again, and tried desperately to stop her fluttering heart as she realized that she still had her arms wrapped around the drummer’s waist. Farah cleared her throat. “Can you help Todd?”

Amanda rolled her eyes but managed to stop herself short of pouting. Her problems with her brother weren’t Farah’s, and she could still help Dirk without getting too near Todd.

She gave a curt nod, stole a quick, chaste kiss, and then quickly skipped over to help Dirk. She slung his arm up over her shoulders and hoisted him up as much as she could. Together, she and Todd helped Dirk hobble over to Amanda and Vogel’s stolen car.

As they were adjusting him into the backseat, Farah decided to inspect the nondescript white van that Friedkin had been about to use. She did a quick scan, searching for any tracking devices or weapons or anything that was generally suspicious.

Surprisingly, the vehicle came up totally clean, although she didn’t feel great about using either of the vehicles in the long run. _We’ll probably need to find more cars soon and leave these in a ditch_ , she planned.

Farah was broken from her thoughts when Amanda protectively wrapped an arm around her waist, laying her head on Farah’s shoulder. Farah put her arm around the other’s shoulder, nuzzling into her soft, dark hair.

“What now, boss?” Amanda asked, quietly.

_Hmm_ , Farah thought, _good question_.

“We should split up. At least for now, we could regroup later but we need to get away from here and make sure no one follows us.”

“Drummer!” Both women’s heads turned towards Martin, who had just jumped out of the back of the van and was now walking towards them.

“Let’s take the van,” he said, nodding his head in the general direction.

The other Rowdies were all over it already, clamoring in and making it their own. While the other van would always be there home, Vogel was eager to recapture that feeling in their new home. Cross was already figuring out how to change up the seating in the back so that it was more open and easier for them all to pile into, just the way they liked.

Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle and smile softly at her boys.

“You’d better get going, then,” said Farah, in her best stoic voice, hoping that Amanda wouldn’t catch any of the emotions Farah was barely keeping under the surface.

As Farah was pulling away from Amanda, Amanda brought her hands up to cup Farah’s face and bring her in for a searing kiss. It bordered just on the edge of desperate, banking on their burning hope that they would be reunited once again after they both put the facility miles behind them.

“Ugh, come on! Let’s go!” Bart scowled at the two from her new seat in the back of the van. She sat, holding Rapunzel, next to Ken, who looked extremely uncomfortable sitting next to Gripps. Since Bart’s car had been smashed, Martin planned to let them ride with them until they found another car Bart and Ken could take to wherever their hearts desired.

Farah held Amanda one last time, praying to whatever forces of the universe Dirk believed in that she would be able to see her again soon.

While the Rowdy van drove off into the horizon, Farah made her way over to her car, ready to drive herself and the boys far away from this hell site.

She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them, nestled up together in the backseat even though there was plenty of room, holding each other’s hand and being thankful for each other’s company. An image of another Brotzman flashed through her mind, and she put the car in gear to follow behind them.

The Rowdies opened the windows of their van, blasting music, yelling and whooping, saying their last goodbyes to a place they planned to never return to, flipping off the buildings for good measure. Rapunzel barked along with them, ever the loving, supportive companion.

Dirk closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief against Todd, sagging his full weight against him.

Dirk knew was never going back, and even if he struggled, even if bad things happened, especially to people he cared about, he now knew that those people also cared for him, and would do everything in their power to be there for him.

No one gave a second glance as the facility slowly disappeared from view and the road stretched a thousand glorious open miles ahead.

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic! I never thought I'd get this far, honestly. It was my sister who encouraged me to post the first chapter, and it was only after your lovely comments that I decided to make this a multi chapter work. It's been a journey writing my first multi chapter fic, and this year has been a journey in learning to write fic in general. Doing this has kept me going all year long, in a sappy sort of way. I hope to write more longer works in the future and already have some more brotzly stuff in the works. Thank you so much for 1200 hits and counting. This is the official end of the fic, and I am so ready to move on to other great works set post s2 <333
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated.


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